The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor (9 page)

But Seth proved wrong in his assessment.
Though Malander had accepted mercenary work in the past, he refused
payment from Zelok. The elf-king did not understand what had
brought Malander to his realm, or how Malander found out about the
secret gathering. Two weeks ago, Malander arrived in the valley,
and Zelok accepted his aid. For the past fourteen days Malander had
lingered about Norganas, particularly at night. Many elves noticed
him wandering the dark alleyways almost as if sleepwalking. And one
local tavern was graced with the grim man's presence every night.
The Dunane were annoyed at first, but once they saw how liberal
Malander was in dispensing silver coins, they welcomed him. Each
evening he sat at the same bar stool and drank the strongest ale
the pub had to offer. When one pint was emptied, Malander's hand
rapped the counter, demanding another. The bartender always fretted
about Malander's miserable mood after all that he consumed, and no
elf dared speak to him for fear of a physical altercation.

Though Malander stood scarcely over five and
a half feet high, his muscular build intimidated many. He looked
very strong, and his temper was uncertain. As he moved in great,
purposeful strides, he muttered strange words to himself, which
Seth tried without success to interpret. Now Seth grew restless as
he awaited Gildan. To fill the time until the elf arrived, he
decided to speak with the fourth of the company.

"Malander?" The grim man stopped in midstep
and turned his head in Seth's direction. His glare was as cold as
ice, making the hairs on Seth's neck stand on end. "What tidings do
you bring from Muldane? I would like to enlighten the Council upon
my return."

Malander stood in front of Seth. "What do you
want?" his deep voice asked.

Smelling some sort of potent spirits on
Malander's hot breath, Seth kept a straight face to avoid
aggravation. "My curiosity is meant only for Mudalfaen."

"Do I look like one who would converse on
matters of Muldane?"

"Well…," Seth began.

"Why do you bother me?" His eyes never moved
off Seth.

"I am passing time; that is all."

"Leave me out of your time-passing," Malander
said as he turned back around. He threw up a hand and shook his
head as he strode away. "Have some respect for a man of the
sword."

"Thank you for your advice," Seth
replied.

"You disgust me."

Seth did not know how to react, so he chose
silence.

"You see?" Lorn whispered. "Bloody crazy,
that one is."

"Appears he doesn't take well to people,"
Gildan's voice came from directly behind them. Neither had seen or
heard the elf come into their presence. Seth looked at Gildan and
gave a forced smile.

"When did you get here?" Seth asked.

"Just a moment after your folly," the
mercenary laughed. "Surprised?"

"Yes," answered Lorn and Seth together.

"Stealth is a gift," Gildan boasted. "We must
be under way now." He headed toward the front doors. "That is, if
you hold true to your word, Highbinder."

"By all means, sir," Seth replied. "If my
being here is the will of Mudalfaen, then I vow to do whatever I
can."

Gildan shook his head slightly. "I will
remember your saying that."

The four stood together and were ready to
leave, but before any could lift a hand to open the way, the doors
swung open and the chamber was flooded with the full light of
morning. Their horses had been fed, brushed, and readied, and Seth
was delighted to see his mount looking refreshed, showing no sign
of the long and wearing ride to Dunane.

"Good morning, sirs," a Dunane elf spoke.

"Good day to you all," Gildan replied as he
neared his white steed, already fitted with its lightweight armor
of fine metal.

Malander wasted no time on greetings but
merely leaped up onto his black horse, which wore only a simple
dark saddle and reins. The three warriors sat on their mounts and
waited as Lorn struggled upward. Finally, after some help from the
elves, he, too, sat astride his horse, whereupon the Dunane
servants let go the reins of the four chargers and returned to the
palace, each giving a short bow before disappearing inside.

Gildan surveyed the street filled with
citizens and merchants. He took in a deep breath, paused, and then,
with a gesture of his hand, gave the call to ride. Little attention
was given to the four as they rode along.

"What is your plan, Gildan?" Seth asked. He
wanted to know what the mercenary had in store for him and Lorn. "I
have always been one for structure and order within a plan whenever
it is possible."

"Then you are in the wrong place," Gildan
answered. "You must realize that Londor is void of structure now."
He brushed off the small particles of dust from his jacket. "This
disorder creates greater riches for me, but it offsets your staid
mentality."

"Then I shall await your wisdom."

"You will receive it in full when the time
comes."

The company cleared the bend in the road and
entered the marketplace. Smells of many things enchanted their
noses: sweet perfumes, roasting meats, and exotic scents they had
never known before.

"How wonderful," Lorn commented to Seth. "I
adore a place of bartering."

"I've been told that Dunane's market is one
of the finest you'll ever encounter." Seth looked around with a
smile and made sure Lorn was enjoying himself, for he knew that the
rest of the journey would not be so pleasant.

"I have imported spices from Mugglon right
here, gentlemen!" one merchant yelled as he held up a red flask for
all to see.

"Roasted meats of a silver henoth!" spoke
another. "Five gold pieces! What a bargain!"

"Overpriced," Gildan laughed quietly.

The four passed the market and came to the
last portion of Norganas's main road. The south gate came into view
shortly. Seth looked up at the observation tower that had given him
and Lorn such grief the night before. The elf-mercenary looked up
at the open archway and perceived something he did not like: three
riders entering the city, charging up the road with no indication
of slowing.

"What the…?" Seth gasped.

"Elves," said Lorn.

"Worse," Gildan added.
"
Northern
elves." He reached
over his shoulder and grasped the hilt of his sword. With one
smooth motion, Gildan pulled forward his hand, unsheathing his
beloved blade. He held the five-foot-long weapon down at his side.
"Something is not right here."

Chapter Four: A Familiar Face

"This is strange," Seth whispered.

"Are they friend or foe?" Lorn asked.

"Quiet, dwarf!" Gildan commanded. "Let me
handle this! Everyone, move!" He waved his sword at those in the
street. "Stand aside, all of you!" As quickly as they were able,
the good citizens of Dunane got out of the road, jostling one
another and cramming into the alleyways, until at last the street
was clear but for Gildan and his company--and the three oncoming
riders. Gildan stared as the white horses of the Northern elves
raced toward them. "They appear to be of royalty--two of them, at
least," the mercenary observed.

The lead rider of the Northern elves glanced
up and saw the four riders in a line, blocking the way ahead. With
not enough space to pass safely, he reluctantly reined in his
horse. The two behind him stopped as well, all three drawing to
within mere feet of Gildan's company. The leader of the Northlings
was an elf-prince. Gildan looked into the stranger's cold blue
eyes. He was tall and well built, with a broad jaw and upright
posture--the very picture of royalty--with long red hair that stood
out against the white fur around his neck. Studying the trio,
Gildan could see that each wore the same garb: a silver chest plate
with white fur trimming the neck and shoulders, a silver stomach
plate, and silver armor about the thighs. From neck to foot, each
wore a suit of golden scales like a dragon's, on each arm a gloved
gauntlet, and knee-high boots protecting the legs. From each man's
thick leather belt hung a sheathed sword, half hidden beneath a
long white apron that draped to the knees. The wind caught their
white capes trimmed with the gold and red triangular pattern of
royalty--much like the pattern on Gildan's cape. The only
difference in dress was that the last of the three wore a bronze
headband, while the other two wore gold.

"Stand aside, mercenary!" the lead Northern
elf shouted. "Royalty claims this road over the lesser folk!"

"You are mistaken," replied Gildan. "I am not
below you or any other. All kingships and the like have no hold
over my existence."

"I would hold my tongue if I were you!"

"Not necessary. I say and do as I wish."

The prince surveyed Gildan and laughed. "I
pity you; truly I do. You try to emulate that overpriced,
secondhand sword wielder…" He paused in thought. "I forget his
name." He looked more closely at the elf-mercenary. "Gundagrin.
Yes, that's the one." The prince shook his head. "Pitiful."

"I
am
Gildan Gundagrin," declared Gildan.

"Seems impossible from the stories I have
heard," the prince replied. "Gildan Gundagrin is said to be tall
and magnificent, yet you are small, and fouler-looking than what
has been told."

"Tales fall short of me," Gildan said. "My
sword and I are legendary, however; I have proved this many times
over." He raised his sword slightly to give the prince a glance at
the ancient weapon. "Pray you never fall victim to my blade."

"I know I am a greater sword wielder than
you, mercenary."

"Then what is your name?" Gildan asked. "Let
me see if I have heard it before."

"I am Prince Arnanor, son of King Elgast,
ruler of the Northern Kingdom. I am heir to my father's
throne."

Gildan looked distinctly unimpressed. "Sorry,
Arnanor. I have never heard of you or your steel."

"Then you will know of me now."

"Yet I haven't the time to fool with you,"
Gildan said, wanting to get on with the quest.

"In haste, are we?" the prince inquired.
Looking at the three who accompanied Gildan, he turned his mind to
thoughts of their purpose.

"It is not your place to know of us."

"So you say," Arnanor retorted. "I ask that
you stand aside. We must speak to Zelok at once."

"Does your coming concern the stolen moon,
Beldas?"

"Yes, Gundagrin, it does."

"Then there is no need to seek Zelok
out."

"Why? Are you deliberately trying to steer me
away from my quest?"

"
Your
quest?" Gildan laughed.

"Do not mock me," Arnanor snapped.

"I am commander of Zelok's company. We now
depart to seek an answer to this downfall."

Arnanor was astonished.
"
You?
He could find no
better?"

Gildan left the comment alone, saying, "I
suggest you return northward before Mudalfaen knows you are
here."

"They will not know of our brief alliance
with Zelok."

"I am afraid to inform you, but they will
now," Gildan said slyly as he turned to Seth. Arnanor looked at
Highbinder's badge, and his mouth fell open in dismay. "The Council
rides with me to my ultimate victory."

"So they finally decide to help," Arnanor
murmured. Pointing imperiously to Seth, he said, "You there!"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Why hasn't the Council dispatched aid to my
kingdom? Do they find amusement in the suffering of my people?" His
pale complexion flushed to red as he gritted his teeth. "Our
strength declines! The ice formations shift, and the earth trembles
our halls! I will not be denied passage into this company! I will
die before any more of my people do!"

"You are forbidden to join us, sire. The
Council would never approve such an action by royalty. I must hold
true to the laws of Mudalfaen." Seth did not like this
confrontation, but he had to be firm, Mudalfaen had strict policy
against allowing nobility to engage in battle personally.

"I will follow the four of you whether you
accept me or not! I believe our lives are worth it. We accept the
sacrifice."

"Do you also accept the swift punishment the
Council will rain down upon you, your followers here, your father,
and your kingdom? Have you thought of this, my lord?"

"What would the Old Laws do to me, a prince?"
He smirked and leaned forward on his steed, awaiting a response.
"Out with it, boy!"

"As I recall from study," Seth replied, "you
will either be imprisoned for the rest of your Londorian existence
or put to death--unable to pass to Ethindar. Your companions here
shall face the same. Your kingdom will be considered banished from
the Mudalfaen Alliance, and all aid will be stricken from your
people. Any problem that the Northern Kingdom faces will be your
father's alone to mend. Your homeland will grow vulnerable, Prince
Arnanor."

"Vulnerable?" Arnanor nearly shouted.
"
Vulnerable
, you say? The
Northern Kingdom will never be vulnerable if the heavens are
balanced again! Even if Mudalfaen bans my kingdom, we shall be
strong forevermore."

"Yet you will not be able to see this, due to
your own chastisement. I will not allow you to begin this chain of
events. I am sorry." Seth lowered his head, hoping this was the end
of the debate, but he could feel Arnanor's eyes upon him.

"Save your breath," Arnanor replied. "We come
no matter what you say."

"He is a stubborn one, Seth," Gildan said.
"His head is as thick as that armor he wears."

"Seth," Arnanor said, etching the name into
his mind. "I shall keep you in my sight at all times. Your badge
will not save you from my fury."