The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor (31 page)

By now the Northern elves had dashed to the
far reaches of the chamber, leaving Gildan by himself, shaking his
head, torn by the actions of his kindred. Throwing his cape back,
he sprinted to join them. The clanging of weapons became extremely
loud as Gildan crossed the vast room--only to find an astonishing
scene.

Twelve monks clad in black were locked in
combat against the five soldiers of the symbol, and to Gildan's
left, the princes and Geil fended off whoever came near, not
knowing whether the monks were friend or foe. The five dark
soldiers fought bravely against the unarmed monks, though
swordsmanship seemed to gain them no advantage. Even with their
great skill, they were unable to stop the relentlessly attacking
monks. For many long minutes the battle waged in a continuous
stalemate, with the soldiers fighting separately from the elves,
each having two or three foes to deal with, maneuvering around
great pits of swirling fires. Swords were swung true, only to be
deflected by clawed hands, which seemed impervious to the
relentless assaults, as if made of metal.

Arnanor and Geil still fought bravely,
keeping their many opponents checked, yet they could not inflict a
single injury. Muron remained in Geil's shadow, making little use
of his still unblooded blade, though he felt alive and important
now within the ranks of Randor's company.

The battle came toward the three from all
sides, with the entire room in utter chaos. Then, just as Gildan
made his way toward his embattled companions, a red-robed monk
glided into the rear of the room, hovering several inches above the
floor. His followers, without glancing at him, began to retreat,
fading before the eyes of all who opposed them, growing almost
transparent, only taking solid form as they stood humbly against
the walls. The five soldiers, two princes, and Sir Geil remained in
the chamber's center, standing together, their differences
forgotten for the moment.

Gildan strolled inward and stood next to
Arnanor, who did not take his eyes away from the newest guest.
"What is he?" Arnanor asked. "An apparition?"

"A monk, more or less, though I have never
seen his like before."

"Well, look upon him now, for these shadows
will soon fall slain," Arnanor declared.

The priest landed gracefully before the
motley group and, pointing his finger at the five soldiers, snarled
with a deep hatred,
"Hep ahten mos, ei
oph--ghest."

"Who are you?" the leader of the symboled
soldiers demanded. "Where have you hidden the Banner of
Aldrenos?"

"The Banner of Aldrenos?" Gildan replied,
shocked. The appearance of the soldiers in this city was now clear
to him. For years he had wondered about this ancient relic. "That
is one of the most precious treasures in the entire world."

"Give us the banner and I might spare you!"
the leader said clearly.

The priest laughed and replied,
"Sen tuh Nugalas."
Drifting
backward, floating barely above the ground, he beckoned any brave
enough to enter the doorway behind him.
"Xontos meh cosdar costot len Aldrena."

"Is Nugalas your name?" the leader asked,
receiving only a nod as a reply. "Very well, Nugalas, you will lead
me to the banner at once!"

"Why are you in search of this relic?" Gildan
asked.

The leader held out his sword as his soldiers
moved away from the company, not frightened by Nugalas's invitation
to journey farther into his castle. Eyeing Gildan, he said, "Don't
meddle in our business. You have no right to know, nor could you
understand."

"I have an idea of what you plan to do with
it." Gildan was well versed in the lore of the Banner of Aldrenos,
for he had been commissioned long ago to capture it for a king in a
distant land, though he had never found its elusive hiding
place--until now. The princes looked on, baffled, not knowing what
was spoken of.

"What could an elf know?" the leader laughed,
"especially one of your nature, outlandish sword wielder!"

"I far exceed your skills," Gildan remarked
boldly.

The lead soldier turned his attention back to
Nugalas but saw that he and his monks were gone, having vanished in
silence during the short exchange of words. Remarkably, no one had
seen them leave. "Believe me, mercenary, your time will come sooner
than you think."

"I await that moment," Gildan replied.

The leader left through the door with his
companions just at his coattail. Somehow he seemed to know that the
banner he was after lay in this direction. Failure to return the
relic to his master would probably result in great
punishment--something none of the five would want.

"Tell me about this Banner of Ald--" Arnanor
paused, trying to remember the name. "Whatever it is, Gildan, you
know what I speak of. Do not offend me and make me say a word I do
not recall. Inform us if you will--that is, if you truly know of
this item."

Gildan said, "The Banner of Aldrenos was once
exposed to the world, flying high in honor above the castle where
it once resided. In its long service it changed hands many times,
finally falling out of view over one hundred years ago."

"What was so impressive about it?" Arnanor
asked impatiently, thinking the story was taking entirely too long
to explain.

"Whoever bore it was granted prosperity
beyond your wildest imagination. It gave a kingdom and its people
unfailing health; no one died or fell into sickness. The Banner of
Aldrenos was greatly desired during the Dark War between the two
continents of Dunith and Argos."

"I am guessing the victor of the war
possessed it," Muron said.

"Strangely enough, the collective armies of
Dunith did not," Gildan replied. "It disappeared before the war
ended, or that is what I heard. Randor would know exactly how it
all came to pass."

He walked slowly away from the group in
contemplation as the others looked to him for the next move. "So
this is the famous place of the banner after all these years of
search." He smiled, thinking of the reward that was promised to him
before. Then an even wider smile crept to his pale face at the
thought of selling it to whoever offered the most money.

"Are you in search of it, Gildan?" Muron
asked, puzzled.

"Yes," he answered happily. "I was once upon
a quest to retrieve this banner. The incentive offered to me would
have taken many decades to spend…even to earn, really." His eyes
glazed over.

"How much was that?" Arnanor asked
curiously.

"Four million gold pieces."

"What?!" replied the three, shocked at the
huge sum.

"That makes me sick," Arnanor declared,
shaking his head. "That kind of money could last my people for
eons."

"Four million is a small price to pay for a
kingdom's undying health and prosperity."

"That is robbery, mercenary."

"It is a fair and honest trade."

Arnanor began to conjure a grand idea and
approached Gildan alone. "So this banner, carried into battle,
would bring victory?"

"Who owns it is victorious in all his
pursuits."

Arnanor spun away from Gildan's sight and
grinned with an underlying purpose, his ideas one step closer to a
solid solution. Dreams of glory filled his soul as he thought of
the greatness he could achieve with the banner under his control.
But he shared the plan with no one, not even his own brother or
Geil, for he did not want to risk its exposure.

Muron could see him daydreaming and wanted to
know what he was thinking. "What is it, my brother?"

"Nothing, Muron. Nothing at all."

"Are you sure? You can always talk to me, you
know."

"Just ready yourself, all right?"

"I am ready."

"And I am ready whenever you are, my lord,"
Geil added.

"Gildan?" Arnanor said.

"Yes?"

"We are ready on your word."

Chapter Thirteen: New Smoke Rises

"Do not attack yet! Let them come to us,"
Randor advised as the enemy closed on them fast.

"If we don't act now, we will not see another
battle!" Malander replied, trying to contain the impulse to
charge.

"What are we doing?" Seth asked. "We will
surely die if we wait!"

"Not true," Randor said in a calming tone as
he thrust out his arms and bent his knees. The first monk reached
them, only to be repelled by a powerful kick from Malander.
Strangely, although the robed figure fell back, Malander felt no
contact with his foot, as if he had kicked only air. The downed
monk rose fast and renewed the assault. "I didn't even touch him!"
Malander said, bewildered.

"Beware of these monks," Randor said. "Do now
what you must to survive."

"Oh, with great pleasure!" Malander replied,
diving into the enemy host. With fierce kicks and great, arcing
slashes of his sword, he fought with all the strength he had left,
though he could not prevent half the enemy's numbers from spilling
around him and advancing on Randor.

As Seth and Lorn moved behind the wizard to
guard his flank, Seth noticed that Randor's strength seemed to be
slowly returning to him. The notion to use magic had indeed
occurred to Randor, but the confined space would make things risky.
Moreover, his magical powers would wreak havoc on the ancient
castle structure, which went against his code of preserving the
antiquities of the world. "Do not take shelter behind me, you two,"
he said, nudging them away. "Spread out to reinforce our
powers!"

Seth raised his sword and inched away from
his leader, ready to engage the monks, as Lorn drew his weapon and
faced two attackers who had turned in his direction. Seeing them
approach, the dwarf trembled and almost dropped the dirk to the
floor.

"Keep calm, Lorn," said Seth.

"So it begins," Randor whispered as he thrust
his hand at his attackers, stabbing only air. It became clear to
him that an ancient spell protected these monks and that everything
he and his companions tried would be in vain--yet they must try
nonetheless.

"Magic keeps you well!" Malander shouted as
he continued to press his assault, disregarding the outcome that he
knew would follow. "It is all that allows you to live!"

Randor had to find a proper spell that
would allow his companions to counter the enemy and bring
victory--without his gift of magic, the battle would linger in a
stalemate. During the heat of the conflict, he allowed a small
corner of his mind to slip away to his subconscious, there to draw
on the inner powers he yet possessed. Even as he parried the clawed
blows of his assailants, he heard himself say,
"Nara tugas ei randa ben!"
As his hands blazed
with a luminous white light, the two monks nearest him backed away.
Then, before they realized the meaning of this event, Randor lunged
forward, striking with his palm the chest of a monk and paralyzing
him where he stood. Smoke poured from the monk's torso as he looked
down in horror and attempted to retreat, but it was too late--his
body convulsed violently, and Lorn could hear the sound of breaking
bones as the robed figure sank to the stone floor. There the body
lay for a moment before bursting into blue flames, leaving only
black smoke as a reminder. Lorn's stomach almost heaved at the
horrid sight.

"To me!" Randor shouted, and the three closed
ranks, buoyed by a new sense of hope. Randor's hands blazed white,
beckoning any who dared to oppose him. "I know your weakness," he
boasted. "Go and tell your master this news, for I am sure he
wishes to see my powers!"

"Yes," Malander snarled, "go and fetch that
devil at once!"

As the monks fled the chamber, their chanting
again filled the halls, fading with their retreat. When at last all
was quiet in the chamber, Randor lowered his hands and released the
magical glow.

"I am glad they are gone," said Lorn.

"But for how long?" Seth wondered.

"They will return sooner than you think,"
said Malander. Though he had been unable to visit his vengeful
wrath upon the monks, he had still greatly enjoyed honing his
techniques on them, and now his blood coursed through his veins
with the vibrant exuberance of battle. It would be some time before
his mood calmed back to its usual surly darkness.

"I have a feeling we are about to follow
them," said Seth.

"I think you already know the answer to
that," Randor replied.

"Indeed," Seth laughed. Then, seeing Lorn
looking somewhat back to normal, he said, "Found your courage after
all, it seems."

"I suppose I did," the dwarf answered
meekly.

"I am proud of you, old chum. You will see
your valley again and return to all the delights you once
knew."

Lorn chuckled. "I certainly hope you are
right."

"Of course he is," Randor added. "Now, if we
are all ready, let us pass through the door ahead and see where it
leads. But stay vigilant--danger is not yet far enough away for us
to grow careless. Let us continue ahead." Randor waved his hand and
the four ventured through the newly opened path.

* * *

Before Gildan knew what was happening, the
chase after the soldiers began once again, taking him and the
Northern elves through many dimly lit corridors and across bridges
spanning pits of darkness, doggedly at their enemy's heels. Finally
they paused before a large bridge with a sizable gap in its
middle--destroyed ages ago by causes unknown, and with no apparent
way across.

Gildan edged out onto the decrepit span and
looked down into the chasm, gauging the momentum needed to get
safely across. Then, without even a running start, he pushed off
with his left foot at the gap's edge and soared through the air.
Clearing the gap with room to spare, he rolled shoulder-first onto
the stone and stood upright and looked back to the other's
progress. To his surprise, his three companions remained on the
opposite side of the bridge, staring uneasily into the darkness
below, astonished at the mercenary's feat.