The Riddle of Midnight - Laeli's Tale - Post #6
"Many sorrows befell them afterwards and they were parted long."
- Fellowship of the Ring - A Knife in the Dark, J.R.R. Tolkien (a reference to Luthien and Beren, the lovers Arwen and Aragorn were said to take after)
Everyone needed the rest that Cal’s home offered, but the sadness of Cal’s brutal slaying at the hands of Varduk weighed heavily on everyone’s mind. I think Karhoun and Vorden blamed themselves to some extent, as it had been their decision to let him free. Somewhere, in the back of their minds it must have occurred to them that if they had left Varduk in his crow’s cage a good man who had lived so close to the bosom of the Shadow for so long would still be alive.
We left after a few days. I spent my time throwing the heavy northern spear, made for killing Orc, not fish. It was weighted more like the harpoons from home. Everything was different here. The north of Eredane seemed like a world away from the white sands of home, the lands of the great sea god, Baalu and his nemesis-brother, Kaaktu, the great octopus servant of Izrador.
I spent my time also thinking about my sister and why I wanted to slay her. The images of home came rushing into my head but I still couldn’t find words to make it clear to Baau why she must be killed. For some reason I blamed all of this on her. It didn’t escape my notice that Baau was treating me like a jealous little girl. If I had the information he had I would do the same.
When we went to sleep each of my new travel companions went through their little rituals. Baau, now that he didn't hve to take care of me, didn't know what to do. He tried not to shiver. The Northlands were not being kind to him. He was used to fairer lands than these.
Karhoun took stock and care of his weapons, weaved fabric through his chainmail in order to be quieter and watched the night as if it were a suspected kinslayer.
Vorden seemed oblivious of any possible threats, or just too confident in his own ability with magics to worry. He took out his Lorebook and wrote down all he had learned from that day. Sometimes he drew sketches.
Vorden was interested in me and talked to me often. He kept his distance, though, treating me like a subject for study rather than a person. Karhoun treated me like another able-bodied spear, at least. But still, in his mind I could see that I was only another spear against the Shadow.
I learned that both Karhoun and Vorden were fostered to Theros Obsidia, which explained their cold hearts. Karhoun’s father had been Vildar Esben, the first of the Northman to swear oaths to the Shadow. It was unclear to me how Vorden, a Wood Elf, had been fostered in the capital city of the Shadow, where all Legates are trained. I allowed him the time and the space to tell me if he cared to.
After Karhoun had hunted our larders full with venison jerky and everone had bathed and taken their rest we left Cal’s cave. Cal was left in a burial mound, next to the mounds of his mother and his father. Leaving was a sad thing, it was hard to shake the feeling that we were abandoning Cal.
Apparently during their talk with Cal, while I was still comatose, he mentioned a Legate who was a vicious hunter. There were keeps, occupied by strong armies of Shadow, on either side of Karhoun Keep. We were going to find high ground, to see as much of the area as possible, and plan our approach. Karhoun Keep was named for Karhoun, founded by an ancestor of his, during the 2nd Age.
We found a cliff that gave us a view of Karhoun Keep and the keep on the Fortress Wall to the east of it. South of that was a town, Riismark, whose hearth fires were visible. Visiting the town was out of the question, as Legates would no doubt be there and none wanted to catch the notice of a Legate who could track like Karhoun.
The Scarlet Prince called upon powerful magics that night when we camped in the highlands. We made camp atop a high ridge. He walked into a circle of trees and called upon not just the spirit of the trees, but the spirit of the northern forest itself. The wind blew snow at the rest of us while he sat in the middle, in the eye of the storm, communing with a power. These weren’t a few trees with spears in their boughs but the spirit of an angry northern wood. The snow stung my eyes.
When he was done his hair had grown, his face looked more haggard. He had called on too much power, more than he could easily handle. The effort had aged him considerably.
Vorden hissed at his friends in anger and frustration, “There is something in that damned keep, Karhoun. The forest itself is frightened of it. Goblin and Orc patrols skirt around the keep, never breaking cover. Entering that keep is suicide. We should make for the Erethor.”
Baau gripped his spear tightly. “I must find my love.” It broke my heart to hear him say such.
“I must find my sister,” I replied. Baau made eye contact with me and we both wondered what would happen if he found her at the same time I did.
Karhoun was silent.
Vorden continued, “Karhoun, this is madness.”
Finally, Karhoun said, “Let me get close to it. Let me circle it once, not breaking cover unless we learn more.”
The next morning we made our way towards the keep. For two miles in all directions of the keep, trees were cleared, making for a barren approach for a besieging army. We stayed in camp on the tree-line when Karhoun scouted the perimeter. He came back white as snow, covered in some foul smelling mud, looking frightened. “I found some tracks, Dire Wolf.”
“What is a Dire Wolf?” I asked.
Vorden opened his Lorebook and showed me a sketch he had taken from an Orcish report, a wolf larger than a horse that could fully rend a man in twain. “Dire creatures can speak, Karhoun. They are ever the friends of Elves and Enemies of the Shadow.”
Karhoun took out his sword and replied, “I will believe that it hasn’t been turned to the shadow when I see it. For now all I know is that it has been stalking us for some time. I found it going towards Cal’s local markings, looking for signs of him. It might have known him and it might think we killed him.”
For the next two days we were the hunted. We traveled quickly and quiety and Karhoun took us through streams whenever he could, take get the smell of us off of the trail. The Northman took us through some nights of snow and due to the clouds, we lost sight of the sun, the moon and the stars. After two days of frantic but careful running, we were lost. Even time felt lost to us.
It came to a shock to all of us to walk out of the forest, nearly into a bustling town. In the middle of the town was a tree stump so wide that 20 grown men, even these tremendous Dornish folk, could link hands in a circle and probably not all reach around. It was awe-inspiring. It stirred Vorden Qell’s blood.
“What is that, what is that amazing thing?” he asked no one in particular. “Karhoun, what is to stop me from sticking my staff into the middle of that dead tree over there and calling forth whatever powers were killed? What is to stop me?”
Karhoun whispered, “There must be a Legate nearby. This town, if I’m right, is Yggdra. It is north of Bastion. I have taken us far from where I wanted us to be. We are far west of Karhoun Keep.”
Vorden muttered something about the Erethor and continued to follow Karhoun east, towards Karhoun Keep and the Fortress Wall.
A day and a half or so later wee came upon a tree and Vorden summoned forth its Dryad. She spoke with us for a time, a simple Fey who only knew her Oak and her pond. She wished us well and turned to Karhoun and said, “Do you love her?”
He replied, “I do.”
She said, “Love between man and Fey is always tragic, be careful, Northman,” and entered her Oak.
Vorden looked at Karhoun with a smirk, we all did. It was good to see a human side to this might Dornish hunter.
Vorden was a good history teacher and he explained to me that the Fortress Wall wasn’t a wall at all but a string of keeps along the northlands. When Izrador brought his armies south, age after age, the armies of man constructed these keeps, a line of forts to fight the Shadow. The only ones still fighting the Shadow were the Snow Elf keeps to the far north west, above the Erethor forest in what the Snow Elves call the Veradeen. But more and more of those keeps fell to the Shadow as wave upon wave of Orc and Legates and even more ghastly Shadow Minions fell upon our brother and sister of the Erunsil.
The next morning Karhoun woke up to a bird call and he smiled. From behind a tree came three Snow Elves, clad in white furs, holding spears, with paired daggers at their hips and icewood bows upon their backs.
Their leader, a little girl with straight white hair over no ears and blue eyes the color of my home bay. Karhoun and this girl, Hishaya, had lit fight to Bastion’s fields. She had pledged to him that if she could, she would gather what Snow Elves she could and take fight with the Ironblooded Northman again.
The Snow Elves she had gathered looked like reflections of the same Elf from two different mirrors. One had long straight hair of deepest black and the other had a long braid of brightest white. They introduced themselves as Jurev (the black) and Slovac (the white). They were twins. Their closeness, their brotherhood and the strength of their bond made me think of my sister, Lonet, the Gem of the Bay, and despair.
They were puzzled by Vorden Qell and asked how long he had been out of the Erethor. He replied that he had never been there but deeply wished to.
Slovac asked, “How did it come to be that you were born away from your Wood Elf homeland?”
“I was born the son of a Night King,” Vorden replied, taking off his skullcap to reveal a sigil on his brow, the brand of a Night King. Snow Elf hands went to daggers.
Slovac sneered, “No Night King is an Elf. None.”
Vorden’s eyes grew fierce. “My father is Ardherin and while I do believe he still has good in his heart, he is a Night King, Izrador’s servant, the Sorcerer of Shadow.”
Jurev shook his head and Slovac fell to his knees. Hishaya, only coming up to Vorden’s chest, approached boldly and demanded to see the sigil on his brow. After inspecting it she concurred, “It is indeed the melting of a Night King’s sigil with that of Ardherin, my mother met him once.”
Slovac seemed to be lost in pain. “He was the greatest of Sorcerers, the finest Demon Hunter in all of the Erethor. I was honored to be in a party in order to hunt a Demon of Ice when I was just a boy.
“I never knew a finer Elf. This cannot be.”
Vorden went on, “It is. My father is the Sorcerer of Shadow. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize no one would know.”
With three more in our party, everyone felt more secure. The Snow Elves seem to feel no cold or discomfort and had keen eyes. They moved like a soft wind, leaving no trace of their coming and going, one hand always on a knife, spear or bow. It was later that day when we picked up on Dire Wolf tracks again. Karhoun and the Snow Elves conferred.
“It was tracking something, we’ve come around and are on its tail now. It was tracking some Orcs and Goblins.”
Another half of an hour brought us to the site of the ambush. Half-eaten Orc, goblin boots, and gallons of blood were all over the snow. Karhoun cautiously approached the Dire Wolf, who was destroying the stomach of a Goblin.
Its name was Moonfur and it was indeed a white wolf, larger than a horse and skinny, rangy. His sinewy build somehow reminded me of Cal. Moonfur was sad to hear of Cal’s death, praising the human as a good man, who always respected his pack’s territory.
All of our ears perked to hear of a pack but Moonfur’s tale was a sad one. “My mother, brothers and sisters were all hunted and killed by the Legate Huntress, Nimrotia. I howl just thinking about it. She is a vicious bitch and a cunning alpha for her packs. If only you could have met my brothers and sisters. I was but the runt of the litter and now I can only kill small packs of scared Orc and Goblins.”
Karhoun took out a barbed spear out of Moonfur’s side. “I’ll tank it out on the count of three. One, two-“ and on two he yanked. Moonfur smiled, a giant wolf grin. “You Northman always pull on two. Thank you.”
After properly disposing of the bodies they made camp and told Moonfur their quests and hopes. Moonfur covered a tremendous territory for only the runt of his pack and knew a lot of what was going on in the Northlands. “I saw a carriage traveling north and it had the smell of an Elf, an Elf like her.” And he motioned his nose towards me.
Baau stood up. “Where did you see it? Where was it going?”
“It was on a northern highway, little used, that the Shadow uses to move beasts to temples and keeps. The carriage was going towards the Breeder’s Pits in the North. It had a sigil on it but I don’t knew such things, only smells.”
Vorden took off his skullcap and asked, “Was the Sigil like this?” pointing to the brand of his father.
The wolf looked and replied, “Yes, that was it. “
Baau and Vorden exchanged looks.
We made camp and made watch. The camp was rife with quiet conversation as we all became aquainted. Perhaps my time with the Orcs has left more of a mark on me than I care to admit but I found myself sitting alone, not partaking of any of the conversations.
Baau and Jurev spoke of love and Jurev told Baau that if his love was heading towards the Breeder’s Pits than it was off to the Breeder’s Pits he should go. “I will go with you. Love is a quest not many take in this Last Age. I will gladly take up my spear for this lost virtue.”
Karhoun and Vorden spoke heatedly about the virtues and flaws of entering Karhoun Keep.
Hishaya spoke about hunting with Moonfur.
Slovak and I sat alone, cold and miserable. Slovak was still wrestling with the loss of his hero, revealed to be a Night King. It made me respect Vorden all the more, living with his father’s disgrace every day.
Vorden argued, “I wanted to walk into Yggdra and awaken that tree but I stayed my hand. Do you know what that tree was? Once trees like that dotted the continent, and its leaves would burn like fire if Shadow was approaching. It was a Beacon Tree. The Shadow took the North and but it down. The wood that it used to build its fleet, the fleet that sailed across the Pellurian for the Final Battle on the southern shores was made from the wood of that tree.
“If I can stay my hand and not call forth that anger and power, you can get this fool idea of entering Karhoun Keep from your stubborn Northern skull!”
Karhoun remained unconvinced but was showing doubt.
We circled Karhoun Keep several times. Moonfur admitted that he was scared of whatever was within but had never seen evidence of anything. He told of Goblins and Orcs who would dare to go up to the burial mounds, five in all, that circle the keep like points of a pentagram.
Vorden shook his head, “Some Fell Lord of unspeakable power or Demon of old is in there. I am loathe to awaken it.”
Once Karhoun heard that Goblins and Orcs dared to break cover and occasionally go close to the keep he set off running. Reluctantly, we all followed him, although we were under no obligation to do so.
The strangeness of the wind was striking. For a while the wind would blow south. Then, after a minute or so of southerly the wind would blow north. After a minute or so of northerly, again the wind would blow south.
Vorden bared his teeth and snarled, “You realize these winds are whatever creature that is in there’s breath. Yes?”
The Snow Elves, Baau and myself took watch around the mound, Baau’s eyes never leaving the keep and the breath seeming to come from within.
Karhoun came to the burial ground of his ancestors and prayed while Vorden took notes about the burial mound’s construction, taking rock for later inspection. The Northman smiled through his scarred beard and said, “Let’s try another,” and set off at a run for the next.
At the next Vorden mentioned, “You know, I could summon forth your ancestors, call them for you to speak to. That is well within my power as a Summoner.”
Karhoun warned, “I won’t have you binding them with Elf glamours.”
The Scarlet Prince assured him, “I will only knock on their door, see if they are willing to let you in.”
Karhoun nodded and Vorden began his ritual, attempting to summon up the spirits of the Esben Ancestors.
After Vorden did his arcane work, the door to the mound opened and Karhoun ventured in, Vorden in tow. We all stayed behind and warded the doors, suffering that infernal breath from the keep, which suddenly seemed warmer than it had been.
