Chapter 9

They had not been long on the road when across the sky there was drawn a layer of clouds that began to make for a rather dismal morning. The road which they followed soon left the river bank to head south-easterly. Their next destination was Aglathrad, the capital city of Arnedia, which lay almost due south near the mouth of the river.
      Those who had travelled this way before knew that the winding dirt road would before long return to a more southerly course and eventually rejoin the river on its long march toward the capital. In the meantime they would pass through many smaller settlements, most of them modest farming towns and the like, but no major cities lay in their way till Aglathrad.
      The first such village to which they would come was Kettlestone, and they would not like what they found there. When they reached a fork in the road, looking easterly they beheld a horseman approaching speedily from that direction. As he neared the party they could see that he was not a knight, but by all appearances a simple farmer. On his face he wore a look of sheer terror.
      ‘What news, traveller?’ asked Raavan when the man reached them, reluctantly reigning in his steed at Raavan’s bidding.
      ‘Go ye not that way, friends!’ warned the horseman, his eyes wild and darting every which way as he looked about for signs of danger. ‘Go ye not that way! Some terrible enemy hath slaughtered an entire village! Ghouls and Goblyns, surely! Ride ye for your lives, I say! Ride, and waste ye no time!’ With that the man heeded his own advice and galloped off toward Greycastle. Raavan did not look pleased.
      ‘Well, I suppose we had better investigate,’ said the wizard, mulling over their options in his head, ‘although I think I know what we’re going to find.’
      ‘Isn’t it obvious what we’re going to find?’ asked Burak. ‘Dead villagers; the remains of another Goblin raid on an outlying settlement.’
      ‘Yes, that is obvious,’ answered Raavan with slight irritation, ‘but it may be useful to know what was the size and composition of the raiding party, and whether there is any other information we can gather. I would also like to see this village for myself. I am inclined to interpret these as just random probes by Silgoth as he measures the breadth of his opponent’s strength, but I want to make sure this was not a strategic target, being so close as it is to Greycastle.’
      And so they rode east despite the vigorous warnings of the terrified horseman. Several miles at least they had to ride before they arrived at the sign reading Welcome to Kettlestone . Then they began to see the dead bodies. There were men, women, and children, all strewn about the hamlet, though in a great many cases the victims could not even be identified as to gender, for something had gnawed the flesh from their bones and all that remained were bloody skeletons. Several of the companions thought they would lose their breakfast.
      Raavan picked at the remains noting anything unusual and especially seeking out the few attackers which had themselves been killed. Two Goblyns were found and also a thick, hairy arm that appeared to belong to a Ghakh. The villagers appeared to have put up a heroic resistance, as next to many of their remains were found pitchforks and cleavers, sickles and scythes.
      ‘The raiding party must have been quite large,’ observed Falco. ‘That, or these people did not put up enough of a resistance.’
      ‘These are not trained warriors, Falco,’ said Raavan. ‘They were simple farmers caught at unawares. A small band of Ghakhen and Goblyns could easily have overpowered them. They probably attacked just after dark last night.’
      ‘But why have their bodies been, um, gnawed ?’ asked Talen. ‘I mean, vultures would do that, but I don’t see any vultures yet, and when would they have had time to do this?’
      ‘It was not vultures,’ replied Raavan.
      ‘The spawn eat human flesh,’ explained Alatar. ‘Human, Dwarf, and probably Elfling, too.’
      ‘They’re obviously getting very bold,’ said Burak, ‘striking this close to Greycastle and then hunkering down and having a feast right here along a major byway.’
      ‘We’ve seen enough,’ declared Raavan. ‘Mount up. Let us continue our journey. These people are now beyond our aid, but many others depend on us to finish our quest. Mount up now.’
      Before the others could comply, however, they heard a painfully familiar and altogether unwelcome sound: the knocking of bone against bone and the slap of wet chunks of meat falling to the ground. Looking round they saw that everywhere skeletons were lifting themselves from the ground and picking up whatever makeshift weapons they could find nearby. The companions became very alarmed.
      ‘More walking skeletons!’ observed Dannadar, ‘Could it be Nostaite?
      ‘No,’ answered Raavan as he drew his sword, ‘more likely it is our friend Magorath. Ride! We need not engage them if we can outrun them. Mount up and ride!’
      As the others fumbled with their tethers and hastened to mount their steeds Raavan fought off the few unnatural aggressors that were in the immediate vicinity. By the time they all were ready to ride off a sizeable force was assembling and just now starting to approach with their pitchforks and sickles.
      Toward the west end of the village the companions rode and it seemed they would soon be free of the danger, but now a new obstacle hove into view, one that instilled in them far greater fear than the bony rabble to their rear. Dead ahead they saw a Tsaurek baring its enormous reptilian fangs as it emitted a savage roar in their direction.
      The companions reined in their steeds and in desperation they saw that they were now caught between a large mob of skeletal warriors on the one side and a terrible bipedal lizard on the other. They were without a doubt in a very tight spot.
      Suddenly Raavan rode boldly toward the Tsaurek, sheathed his sword, and with a clap of his hands shouted at the enormous beast: ‘Über! Bad boy! Back in your cage!’
      Miraculously, the titan reptile suddenly took on a submissive posture and began to back away. Again Raavan clapped his hands and scolded the great monster as the bipedal lizard turned to slink away in shame.
      ‘Now, ride!’ shouted Raavan to the company, and following his lead they quickly rode out of the town, leaving the skeletons to chase the faint-hearted reptile.
       
       
      ‘How did you do that?’ asked Dannadar when they were far enough out of town to slow again to a brisk walk.
      ‘Do what?’ said Raavan.
      ‘How did you shoo that Tsaurek away like that?’ asked the Elfling.
      ‘Didn’t you recognise the beast?’ said the wizard. ‘That was our old friend Über from the tower in Gôl Certhad—Magorath’s pet. Or, rather, it was a projection of his likeness, just as we saw outside the tower. I recognised his face as soon as I saw him. Also, I knew that Tsaureks don’t occur this far south, and they don’t get quite that large.   The dimensions of the image were wrong.’
      ‘So Magorath is about, then,’ concluded Talen.
      ‘Yes, and that is very good for us,’ answered Raavan.
      ‘Good? How can it be good?’ asked Dannadar.
      Raavan answered, ‘Because Alatar just spent the last several days setting out the bait precisely in hopes of bringing him to us.’
      ‘Why do you want to bring him to us?’ asked Talen.
      ‘Yes, why?’ agreed Dannadar. ‘I should think we would want to get rid of him as soon as possible. I don’t enjoy having dead bodies rising up all over the place to try to hack me to pieces.’
      ‘I want to get rid of him too,’ explained the wizard, ‘but equally, I don’t want him running around Arnedia distracting its various rulers from the all-important goal of preparing for the coming war. It is now clear that this has been his primary purpose these past months.’
      ‘You’re referring to the seeding of the Úvarian sects at Kilarroch and Stonecastle?’ said Burak.
      ‘Yes, that, among other things,’ replied Raavan.
      ‘Do you mean to say you think he was behind the attempt to poison Cenedain?’ asked Dannadar.
      ‘Almost certainly,’ replied Raavan. ‘How do you think he would have found us so quickly, otherwise?’
      ‘Then that was Magorath we saw in the basement at Greycastle!’ exclaimed Talen.
      ‘Egad! Just think what would have happened had we been discovered,’ said Dannadar. ‘He might have turned us all to stone. Then Cenedain would likely have been killed, and maybe his family, too. Poor Kalea!’
      ‘Yes, a lot of bad things might have happened,’ agreed Raavan, ‘but right now we haven’t the time for what ifs , for we’ve game to hunt. Follow me.’
      With that the old man led them into the pine grove on the right-hand side of the road, where they did their best to conceal themselves while watching the way to Kettlestone. Across the road was a thicket of waist-high grasses and bushes that then graded also into woods. Overhead the sky had become quite dark as the clouds continually thickened, and it came easily to their minds that a storm might be approaching.
      They waited for some fifteen minutes before the figure they were expecting finally appeared. During that time it had started to drizzle and a light wind had picked up. In the dim light they observed a hooded figure leading a horse down the road toward where the party lay concealed. Very carefully the dark figure picked his way, alertly taking in all around him.
      ‘We want to question him, not kill him,’ whispered Raavan to the others. ‘Not yet, anyway.’
      The figure continued to approach.
      ‘When I give the word, we will fall upon him all at once,’ instructed the wizard quietly.
      The figure stopped. Now it seemed to the companions that he looked directly at them, though in the dull light it was unlikely that he could see them in their place of concealment. They all froze. Talen stopped breathing. Even Airi seemed uncharacteristically quiet as he perched on a nearby branch.
      Long moments passed, and then Raavan gave the word: ‘Now!’ he shouted, and the companions bounded toward the frozen figure. Before they had taken two steps the sorcerer had dropped the reins and begun dashing toward the thickets across the road. As the companions ran after their quarry, drawing their weapons along the way, the sorcerer’s horse turned and bolted in the direction of Kettlestone. The sorcerer himself had disappeared into the thicket as the rain began to intensify, the winds picking up even more.
      Quickly Raavan shouted instructions to the others: the Elflings would guard the road, arrows at the ready, as Alatar, Burak, and himself spread out and dove into the tall grasses in search of the villain. With Fheoir in hand Raavan plunged into the bush, as did the other two armed warriors.
      The Elflings waited on the road as they were instructed, arrows knocked to bowstrings. They were tense. The driving rain soaked them through and the wind blew against their faces, yet they watched attentively all along the edge of the road for the malefactor to emerge. All they saw was a black cat come limping out of the weeds to their left and with a fearful glance at them hobble quickly across the road into the wood. Soon Burak emerged from the bush, followed by Alatar and eventually by Raavan.
      ‘Did you see anything?’ shouted Burak above the sound of the wind-driven rain.
      ‘I almost had him, but he got away,’ lamented Raavan as he strove to see through the wet weather. ‘I was right on his heels. Fheoir nicked him in the leg, and then I tripped. By the time I had returned to my feet he was gone.’
      ‘Did you see anything?’ he asked the Elflings.
      ‘Just a black cat that limped across the road,’ answered Talen, suddenly realising their mistake.
      ‘Do you suppose that was Magorath?’ asked Dannadar, quickly arriving at the same suspicion.
      ‘Very likely,’ said Raavan. ‘Which way did he go?’
      Talen pointed into the woods.
      ‘Well, he is gone now,’ said the wizard after a moment’s thought, ‘and we are likely to catch nothing more in this rain than a cold.’
      That said, the companions returned to their horses and took refuge under the spreading boughs till the storm passed. Fortunately, that did not take overlong and they soon were again on their way.
      Although the rain had let up, the clouds persisted for the rest of the day and at times they could hear distant thunder as the summer storms wandered over the lands about them. They had resumed their southward trek on the road that followed the east bank of the Aglathrin, occasionally passing through small towns along the way, other times wending amid farmlands and open expanses, yet always the great river coursed by in its banks not far away.
      As the dimness of day was transformed almost imperceptibly into the blackness of night they found themselves approaching the town of Kirkney, which lay about seventy-five miles yet from Aglathrad. There they found accommodations at the Dragonslayer Inn, a tavern run by a big brusque fellow named Bull, and quite popular with both the locals and travellers on their way to and from the capital.
      They supped in the common room, which on that particular night did not lack for patrons. Sitting at a corner table they ate their greasy roast beef and unbuttered bread and then had a mug or three of dark ale while Raavan drew forth his pipe and made his own contribution to the already smoky air. There they sat for quite a while, for none of them were ready to retire, and even Airi joined them at the table as it was too rainy for his evening hunt. Perching on the window sill he downed small strips of beef fed to him by Talen and then allowed the Elfling to scratch him behind the ears, and under the wings, which he particularly enjoyed.
      ‘So, what about this Magorath?’ asked Dannadar.
      ‘What about him?’ answered Raavan after emitting a rather large smoke ring.
      ‘For starters, how did he track us all the way from Gôl Certhad?’ asked the Elfling. ‘And what does he want with us?’
      ‘It’s pretty obvious what he wants,’ answered the wizard between puffs. ‘He wants the Earlstone back. Unfortunately for him, he’s not going to get it. But in regards to your first question, I don’t think it should have been too terribly difficult for him to find us, as we have been making no attempt to conceal our identity nor our mission. It’s clear now that he has contacts in both Stonecastle and Greycastle and it’s not unlikely that they would have been able to ascertain where we were headed next. That, and the hints planted by Alatar several days ago during his little reconnaissance task I set him should have been more than adequate to set him right on our trail. I’m actually surprised he didn’t catch up with us sooner.’
      ‘But how does he even know that we have the Earlstone? I mean, he wasn’t there to see us take it,’ reasoned Dannadar.
      ‘No,’ agreed the wizard, ‘but he certainly would have noticed it was missing when he returned to his tower, and if you’ll recall, it must not have been very long before we arrived that he had been confronted at Gôl Certhad by Andirian and his men, who would have made no secret of their having come from Stonecastle.’
      ‘Aha!’ exclaimed Dannadar as he smote his forehead with the palm of his hand. ‘So he figured some of Andirian’s men stole the Earlstone and took it back to Stonecastle.’
      ‘And then when he went there to retrieve it he had news of a wizard named Raavan having just passed through on his way to Greycastle and Aglathrad beyond,’ continued the wizard. ‘And as I’ve said, Alatar and I have been leaving little hints for him along the way, just in case.’
      ‘But the question is, will he continue to dog us, now that we’ve confronted him?’ asked Burak.
      ‘I don’t think so,’ answered Raavan. ‘As was the case with Nostaite, he is no match for my abilities, and he almost certainly knows that now.’
      ‘Aye,’ agreed Burak, ‘and I am certain that his neck would be no match for my axe-blade.’
      ‘Quite,’ replied Raavan. ‘Anyway, with all likelihood he will just return to his tower now and work on devising other means to stir up trouble in Arnedia.
      ‘So, is this Magorath serving Silgoth, then?’ asked Talen.
      ‘It seems so,’ answered Raavan. ‘I was dubious before, but now that I’ve seen him there is little room for doubt. He was present at Mâg Tuor when the Kastairi expelled Silgoth from the Dark Forest, and it seems likely that he would have stayed in the service of this new Deathlord when the latter moved to Hélethrôn. I am just wondering how many other spies and infiltrators Silgoth has placed throughout Entira. It now seems likely that Nostaite was in the employ of the Deathlord for the purpose of collecting information in Arenya just as Magorath is clearly doing in Arnedia.’
      ‘These rogues must be rooted out!’ said Burak.
      ‘Yes, well, that is easier said than done,’ replied Raavan. ‘We have foiled at least some of Magorath’s dastardly plans quite nicely, but there isn’t time for us to go chasing down these villains all over Entira. The mustering of the Allies must continue. That is most important at this time.’
      ‘Well, we seem to be doing a pretty good job of rousing the Arnedians,’ commented Falco. ‘Both at Stonecastle and Greycastle they seem ready to begin preparing for the coming battle.’
      ‘Yes, they are,’ agreed Raavan. ‘But we still have the aristocracy at Aglathrad to deal with. The High King has had one foot in the grave, so to speak, for several years now, and with no living heir to claim the throne the barons and other nobles have been positioning themselves to make a grab for it when Eboenninar passes away. I think they’re in for a surprise, though.’
      ‘How so?’ asked Burak.
      ‘Because there is a new king in Greycastle, one who now wields the Sword of the West, and his kingdom is among the strongest in Arnedia. If he leads well during the coming war, and if we are not all enslaved to the Deathlord (as we very well may be) there is likely to be a general clamour for Cenedain to ascend to the high throne when it becomes available. If that happens, I don’t think there is much the nobles at Aglathrad can do to oppose him. The voice of Nifredir is a powerful one, and it will not go unheeded during the coming struggle.’
      ‘I’m still confused about just what happened at the smithy,’ said Talen. ‘The sword lit up for Cenedain, so he is clearly the chosen king. But how did you know it would respond to him?’
      ‘I couldn’t be absolutely certain, but I had a strong suspicion,’ explained the wizard. ‘There were several things he told me during our days together prior to that which made me think he might just be the one. That’s the main reason I was willing to incur the delay necessary for the reforging of the sword. But I knew the Flame would need to be rekindled also, and we were fortunate to have Noromendor present to serve that purpose. Once again it would seem that fate had brought us to the right place at the right time. Whenever I see that happening I just play along.’
      ‘Getting in the way of fate can be dangerous,’ said Alatar.
      ‘Indeed it can,’ agreed Raavan.