The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor (10 page)

"Do you expect me to uproot my entire way of
life so that it pleases you?" Seth asked.

"I just expect you to watch your
footing."

Gildan spoke. "I shall allow the three of you
into our party." While Seth looked at him with obvious bafflement,
Gildan nodded and added, "I know that you do not agree, Seth, but
you heard what Zelok told us. He said we must find what has
happened to the moon--at all costs. You cannot place rules on times
like these." Gildan smiled. "Besides, I would dearly love to see
Arnanor's work with the blade."

"What?" Seth replied.

"You are wiser than I thought, Gildan,"
Arnanor said, clearly pleased.

"I do not like you, Arnanor," Gildan was fast
to say. "Just trust my judgment, will you, Seth?"

"Listen to the mercenary," Arnanor
encouraged. "Not even our father knows we are here. After we find
what happened to the moon, we three shall ride into the
shadows."

"And if royalty dies?" Seth asked. "You know
I will have to answer to Mudalfaen for that."

"We are gifted, Sir Knight," the elf-prince
said. "We three will not perish before you."

"Then welcome," Gildan said. "Who follows
you?"

Seth sat mute, unable to believe that his
opinion was being ignored utterly.

"This, whom you see behind me, is my sole
brother, Prince Muron."

Muron smiled--an act that Arnanor appeared
unable to perform. He was only five feet tall and frail. His short
hair was yellow and curly. "Greetings, good sirs," he said
politely.

"Silence," Arnanor said sharply.

"And at Muron's side is the imperial knight,
Sir Geil. He is the greatest warrior of his generation, and
guardian over my brother--protecting Muron is Geil's only
function."

Geil did not respond to his introduction but
kept his full attention on the younger prince. One hand remained on
the pommel of his sheathed sword. Of a height with Arnanor, he sat
tall on his steed, his pale red hair tied back and falling just
below his shoulders.

"Who are our other companions?" Arnanor
asked. Each was given a short introduction as the Northern elves'
blue eyes scanned Zelok's party one by one. "I think it high time
to ride!" Arnanor declared boldly. Receiving a glare from Gildan,
the prince added, "Sorry, mercenary. We are ready on your
word."

"Yes. You will be," Gildan replied. "I am the
authority here. Your title lies useless outside your borders. Do
not forget this." The Northern elves parted as Gundagrin and his
three followers rode forth. Arnanor turned his horse about and rode
just behind Gildan. Seth rode third, followed by Lorn. Prince Muron
was fifth, with Geil riding uncomfortably close behind. Malander
kept well back from the others, riding alone in silent misery.

As Gildan guided the company eastward just
outside the gateway, the Dunane people, watching their only hope
for deliverance ride down the street, sent up silent prayers. And
as Zelok's party disappeared from view, the Dunane went back to
their affairs.

The riders climbed a steep hill to the east.
Halfway up, Lorn drifted from formation, and noticing this from the
corner of his eye, Seth, too, fell out. Muron quickly filled the
gap and trotted happily along behind his brother. As Arnanor
pressed Gildan with questions about the journey, trying to find a
weak link in the mercenary's leadership, Lorn stopped and looked at
Norganas with sorrow. He did not want to remain with Zelok and his
subjects, but fear over this unknown trek gripped his heart. Seth
pulled near his longtime friend and inquired, "Something troubles
you?"

Lorn sat still and fidgeted with the
reins in his hands. So many ideas floated in his mind, and the
ability to structure a comprehensible sentence did not come easily.
"I am at a loss for words, Seth. I fear that this quest may be the
end of me. I am not able to fend for myself if we are attacked."
Then an even greater horror came into his imagination. "What if a
wizard puts a spell on me? What if something happens to
you
? I could not handle separating
from you in tragedy. I simply could not."

Seth patted Lorn on his shoulder and replied,
"Do not worry yourself into a mess. We may not see any sort of
struggle. No use fretting over things that may not occur. You will
be quite safe." The rest of the company was on the flat hilltop,
and they did not slow their pace. "We must not be left behind. Will
you be all right?"

"I suppose," he answered.

Seth led the way, and both were surprised to
see the company at a standstill. Arnanor looked at Seth as he rode
to the center of the gathering. "Where were you?" the prince
asked.

"Nowhere, my lord."

"I will not tolerate lingering, Sir
Knight."

"I do regret our tardiness."

Gildan scanned the horizon and focused on the
mountains to the east. He had no inclination where to begin. No
true place in Londor spoke to his soul, though a southerly
direction was his first preference. The elf had been to many of the
planet's kingdoms. The Dunane Kingdom was close to the northern tip
of the continent, with only Arnanor's homeland lying farther above.
If they wished to reach the southern edge and its ocean, they must
cross twelve countries. Gildan knew that southward lay a greater
chance for a lead.

Arnanor drew as near to Gildan as possible.
"What are you thinking? Is the responsibility of leading too far a
burden for you?"

"Not at all," said Gildan. "I've led
expeditions many times before, Prince. I will never relinquish my
authority to you." He pondered. "I am merely recalling the evils I
have defeated before, in case they might give me a clue."

"You do not have a clue thus far?" Arnanor
asked. "We are following you blindly?"

"I have ideas, yet nothing solid."

"Well, amuse me with an idea."

"I will lead the company south to cover more
ground."

"South?" Arnanor laughed. "That will not do,
mercenary. I say we ride west. My family has enemies old and new
there."

"My intuition does not speak of the west.
South, say I."

Arnanor continued arguing, and Seth joined
the elves' debate. The three voices drowned one another out until
at last Gildan ended the nonsense. "Enough!" Gildan turned to Lorn
first. "What say you on the subject?"

"Please leave me out of this, sir," Lorn
replied.

"Prince Muron?" Gildan turned to the younger
prince.

"He has no voice in the matter," Arnanor
finished for him. "I speak for the three of us and I say
westward."

"Malander?"

Malander stared off into the distance. "What
difference does it make?" He glanced at Gildan for a brief moment,
then returned his gaze to the hazy horizon. "I don't care what
direction you choose, elf. We will not succeed in time to save this
worthless planet. All is lost. Just lead us to our deaths, will
you?"

Seeing movement, Gildan turned his head to
the forest and almost doubted his eyes. Someone was walking out of
the woods--a robed figure trudging alongside a brown steed.
Gildan's eyes shot wide and he immediately leaped down from his
saddle. The robed man's face was concealed by the deep blue hat he
wore. Smoke poured out of his mouth, rising thick from his shadowed
form. He seemed not to see Gildan and the six others on the hill as
he climbed slowly. "I cannot believe my sight," Gildan
murmured.

The robed man looked up to see the
elf-mercenary strolling toward him. "Gildan Gundagrin!" he said. "A
sweet surprise I have found this day!"

"Randor!" Gildan cried with glee. "It is a
blessing to see you alive!"

"Indeed it is." The two embraced in a long
hug.

Gildan pulled back first and looked Randor
over, half believing the wizard actually was there. The elf's
memories were again flooded with the events of two months ago when
the two witnessed the tragedy of Beldas. "I watched you die,"
Gildan said softly. "I laid you to rest in the cavern. It was not
an easy thing to do." He lowered his head in sadness.

"Nonsense."

"How long did you remain in Erogd?"

"Not long."

"You must tell me what happened to you after
the Obinoth and I left that accursed place."

"I will tell you all about it at another
time. There are other pressing matters at the moment."

"Very well."

"What is going on here?" Lorn inquired.

"It is too early to tell," Seth answered,
looking on.

"So how have you been?" Randor asked,
inspecting the elf's eccentric attire. He puffed on his pipe and
slid his dark-tinted spectacles up his nose. "You still haven't
changed in your dress, I see."

"I am well. Even in this tragic time my
fortune grows and my skills are at their peak." Gildan looked at
his clothing and added, "You know I dress in the finest materials."
He patted Randor on the shoulder and said, "I have missed you."

"As I have missed you, Gildan." Randor puffed
on his pipe, then said, "Let us now leave these sentiments aside
for a while."

Gildan nodded respectfully. "What draws you
in this direction?"

"A matter of great importance," replied the
wizard.

"Seems we are all in haste this day."

"True."

"It is unfortunate that our paths make this
chance crossing. I must leave your side now in answer to King
Zelok." Gildan peered over his shoulder and made sure none of his
followers listened in on the private conversation. Leaning nearer
to Randor, the elf whispered, "Perhaps you can advise me on a
starting place for…"

"For finding the moon?" Randor asked.

"Yes."

"A simple task you ask of me. I will assist
you and your companions with a single point of reference."

"Are you not bound elsewhere?"

The wizard gave a faint smile. "I was under
way to Norganas, but I do not feel like walking all that way,"
Randor replied wryly. "I am bound to Zelok's plea; his prayers have
been filling the fields' winds for eight weeks now. Though he did
not specifically ask for me, he did ask for one of the Randor Order
to assist him. I do not know what my other brothers are facing at
this time, so I decided to aid Zelok." Randor shook his head and
reached into his cloak; pulling out a small black pouch, he topped
off his tobacco pipe. Closing his eyes, he took in a long draw of
smoke. "You can tell me what Zelok said to you as we head
south."

Gildan felt relieved that his intuition still
functioned. "So the clue we need does indeed lie to the south."

"Perhaps." Randor paused. "We will go
southeast, actually. I have an old friend who is very wise and
powerful, who dwells not far from here. I know he will guide us to
our destination."

"Your wisdom cannot help us?"

"In many things it still suffices, but in
situations such as this, it fails me. This is beyond any of us,
Gildan."

"So the great Randor Miithra lives,"
Arnanor's voice called out. Gildan and Randor looked up at the
prince. "And he comes to Dunane of all places. I take it you are
here to aid the investigation of the missing moon."

The wizard responded with a quick glance from
under his spectacles. Arnanor smirked, hardly daring to believe in
whose company he now stood. The tales and legends of Randor Miithra
had reached every corner and dark place of the world, even the
far-off towers of the Northern Kingdom. In all the prince's years,
he had never thought highly of any Randor, nor even seen one
before. Arnanor had always taken the words of wizards with a large
grain of salt, disregarding most of what they said.

"What draws you hence, young princes?" Randor
asked, knowing that their being here would not go over well with
the Council, whom he served.

"Don't worry, Randor," Gildan said. "No one
in the Northern Kingdom knows they are here. The Council will not
find out. The way I see it, they are but mere mercenaries from the
North."

"You agreed to this?" Randor inquired. "I am
surprised at you."

"It was my words that allowed the Northern
elves into the company. They are under my command." Gildan
readjusted his gloves and said, "Now that you are here, you
complete the company. I give you control over the party if you wish
it."

"Though I would not usually agree with this,"
Randor said, "I will welcome them. I welcome all who seek to help
in this time of trouble." As the two started up the hill side by
side, Gildan took up the reins and mounted. Those of the company
introduced themselves, and Randor only touched his hat in
acknowledgment. "We have tarried here long enough, I should say,"
the wizard said, mounting his horse in one graceful motion. "If you
want to follow my lead, then I ask that you charge forth in my
shadow." As he spurred his horse, the seven bolted down the hill
after him.

They rode south, through the Dunane Forest
without stopping, and within four hours they were beyond Zelok's
realm. Many stories were told, and Sir Geil sang long songs for
Muron's entertainment. Crossing the Caldron Hills, they reached the
Silver Field, where they turned southeast. Gildan and Randor spoke
the whole way, with Gildan filling in all the details he had
received in Dunane. The sun sank toward the horizon, making Seth
and Lorn dread nightfall. In the distance rose a line of mountains
clad in thick forest. The company was approaching the Akros
Mountains, the secret abode of Randor's friend, the Oracle.

As a precaution, he led them into the forest
some miles away from the base of the Akros. "We should be safe
here," Randor said, dismounting in a small opening not far from the
entrance to the woods. The trees were gnarled horribly, and the
dark canopy of leaves shielded the company from weather and prying
eyes. The others dismounted, leaving their horses by the trees, and
marched into the clearing. A small fire pit, recently used, lay in
the center, ringed by white stones.