Chapter Three
It was now almost four weeks since the Caryndil's ambush had destroyed the Dark Elf force. Caryndil and his Elves were now nearing the southern border of the Shadowlands. Here, the Annulli drew closer to the sea. Of old, there had been a great and wide land before the mountains, full of prosperous towns and happy people, the land of Tiranoc. Yet in the Cataclysm following the defeat of Malekith, the land had been consumed by the hungry waters of the sea, and now only scattered islands remained, that and a tiny strip of coast where the last Princes of Tiranoc still rode their proud chariots beside the ocean.
It was along this strip of coast, bordered on their left by the stern peaks of the mountains, that Caryndil's band advanced. The land was more fertile and green here, and hunting was easier. In the new spring of the land, the flowers of Ulthuan blossomed, adorning the hillsides in a wealth of colour, forming a soft carpet for the stern black boots of the gaunt Shadow Warriors. Yet Caryndil would not slow his pace to take in the magic of the spring. He proceeded relentlessly southward, heading to the Council.
A great meeting of the elders of Nagarythe was planned. Drutchii raids had increased in frequency and severity, and Falryr, a leader of the western tribes had summoned Caryndil, to report his deeds in the Northlands. It was a request which could not be denied, and it was a great honour as well. Therefore, even his lean, pale face began to show his excitement as he neared the council area, a high hill, with the ruins of a tower at its summit. At the foot of the hill, Caryndil's band stopped, and were challenged by the sentries.
" Who are you, that you presume to enter the Council of Nagarythe?" spoke one of the sentries, an old, grizzled warrior.
" I am Caryndil son of Morindil, captain of the Eagle tribe of the Western Hills. " Caryndil spoke his lineage, and the name of his band. He showed the guard the lecai rune on his shield.
The guard bowed in acknowledgement. " Hail, and be welcome to the Council, Commander Caryndil. Lord Falryr has been waiting for you. "
Caryndil and his band continued up the hill, encountering more and more of their kin. As they saw themselves surrounded by more and more of their own people, the uneasiness and tension of the past few weeks began to fade, and the elves began to smile as they recognised their brothers and sisters in arms, Shadow Warriors from all over the Northlands. There were at least twelve score Shadow Warriors there, and all but two of the Eight Elders of Nagarythe, each a leader of a group of tribes. Caryndil made his way to the white pavilion of Falryr amid the smells of roasting game and wood smoke, and surrounded by the sounds of an Elven camp; the gentle thrums of lyres and harps, the wind on the tall grass, and the sylvan laughter of the Elves themselves. As he approached the pavilion, Falryr, an ancient elf clad in a white tunic and grey cloak, stepped out.
" Ah, welcome, Caryndil! " he said, with the beginnings of a smile on his tired face. " I trust your journey went well?"
"Well enough, my Lord. We took an enemy patrol at unawares in a wood, and slew them all." Caryndil remembered the ambush.
" I see. Were there any casualties?"
"No, my Lord. We were very successful."
" Excellent. It is because of your recent skirmishes with the cursed Ones that you were summoned to the Council," Falryr went on, " There are many things to be discussed tonight, primarily the purpose of the raids into the North"
Caryndil stiffened with excitement-perhaps now he would learn the designs of the enemy. But before he could further enquire as to the issue, Falryr spoke. " But these are matters for learned concourse and discussion- Come! Let me introduce you to some friends of mine. "
With this, he entered the pavilion, Caryndil following him. Inside, the light was gentle and cool, the evening air made the inside glow with comfort. Seated on two low stools were a curious pair of Elves. Both were tall, powerful elves in the prime of life. One wore a long suit of mail, fringed with blue, and in his belt was a great long sword. The other was dressed much as Falryr was, but he bore a mighty battleaxe, and wore, as a cloak, the pelt of a White Lion. Caryndil's surprise melted quickly into awe.
Falryr broke the silence.
" These are two of my friends; Lindenal, " he indicated the elf with the sword, " is a Swordmaster of the Tower of Hoeth, and Famenon," he pointed to the White Lion " is a warrior of Chrace, one of the illustrious White Lions."
Caryndil bowed, and the two seated elves returned his gesture of respect. Falryr made an expansive gesture, " May I bring you some refreshment? Some wine, perhaps? It is from Avelorn- a gift from one of her Majesty the Everqueen's handmaidens. "
Caryndil accepted the glass. The wine was fresh, dark and cool, it had a natural, almost fruity taste to it. Falryr grinned. " We may only be wandering warriors, my friends," he gestured at Lindenal and Famenon," but this luxury at least we possess."
Lindenal replied, " The service of the Shadow Warriors is invaluable to the defence of our Realm. You honour us with your gift."
Falryr bowed, " I am glad. Let us take a moment to relax, ere we join the council fire to discuss weightier matters, eh? I trust that your entourage will find a suitable site to camp, commander."
Caryndil bowed slightly and sat. There followed an intriguing conversation about the current state of affairs in the Court of the Everqueen, the latest scandals in Lothern, and, much more interesting to Caryndil, the work of Lindenal in the Tower of Hoeth. He was fascinated by the story Lindenal told him, of decades spent learning the arts of swordcraft, but also meditation, the pursuit of wisdom, and the history of the Elven race. All four elves were thus engaged when a young sentry entered the tent and bade them come to the council fire.
Caryndil rose, bowed to his host, as well as to the Swordmaster and the Lion. He then left the tent and entered the cool embrace of the evening. A fire had been started in the base of the ruined tower, and around it the Shadow Warriors were seating themselves. Caryndil located his band, and strode over to where they sat, near a ruined arch. Hylindor had roasted several wild ducks, and the company feasted on these while the Council came to life. More and more Warriors arrived, sitting on the outskirts of the
tower ring and around the crest of the hill. Caryndil was startled when, without any preamble, a tall elf in a green tunic rapped his staff on the ground sharply, as his assistant blew a horn.
" Hail, and well met, Warriors of the North!" he cried.
"Hail!" came the reply.
"Be welcome to the Council of Nagarythe! Behold the Elders! They come now to give counsel. Pay heed, ye Warriors, for now shall be revealed many secrets, now shall many plans and designs be born."
" We hear thee!" came the enthusiastic reply.
At a meeting of any other elf folk, there would have been hours of song and dance before the actual council took place, but these elves here were Shadow Warriors, born to impatience and haste. They waited eagerly as the Elders took their seats on a stone platform. Behind Falryr stood the two strangers, Lindenal and Famenon.
Syraith, an elf in Caryndil's band, was confused.
"What do they do here? " he asked Caryndil. " Are our councils now open for all Ulthuan to come and mock us?"
But Caryndil answered him, " They are guests of Falryr, and I trust their purpose for being here will be revealed soon. "
As he said this, a short Elf Elder in the soft red raiment of the Eastern Warriors rose and began,
"Kindred! Let us put aside the trivial issues and petty concerns which so often mar the proceedings-there have been more Druchii raids than ever before since the Great War. There are foul deeds afoot! We cannot ignore the facts!"
A great cheer erupted from the seated Elves. The speaker went on,
" Five towns near the coast were sacked in a single day and night! The blood of our people was poured over the rocks and trees as a warning!" There were many cries of anger and outrage from the council.
A gaunt, wispy elf rose and addressed the company,
" My friends, Hindyr speaks truth. There will be time for anger and vengeance soon, but I must ask you to put aside your wrath until all tales have been told, and all counsels heard! Hearken to me, Elves!"
Hyndyr, the elf in red, bowed and sat back down again. The murmurs of anger came to a halt. With a sigh, the tall elf began his story. It was a grim tale. The Witch King had sent two Black Arks to the shores of Ulthuan, and his armies had poured out from them, taking even the ceaseless watch of Nagarythe by surprise. After the initial assault, instead of following their usual procedure of rapine and murder, the Dark Elves had penetrated deep into the Northlands, separating into small bands and covering vast tracks of the countryside, as far as the Annulli mountains. The old elf believed that they were not an invasion force, but something more sinister.
" They are searching for something," he said, " Their dispatches which we have intercepted are full of phrases such as this- 'No success yet' and 'We cannot find it, but we sense that we are near' "
The elf gazed out at the company.
" I believe you all know very well what it is the Dark Ones are searching for," he spoke, wearily, "For it is the tomb of Alith Anar."
It was now almost four weeks since the Caryndil's ambush had destroyed the Dark Elf force. Caryndil and his Elves were now nearing the southern border of the Shadowlands. Here, the Annulli drew closer to the sea. Of old, there had been a great and wide land before the mountains, full of prosperous towns and happy people, the land of Tiranoc. Yet in the Cataclysm following the defeat of Malekith, the land had been consumed by the hungry waters of the sea, and now only scattered islands remained, that and a tiny strip of coast where the last Princes of Tiranoc still rode their proud chariots beside the ocean.
It was along this strip of coast, bordered on their left by the stern peaks of the mountains, that Caryndil's band advanced. The land was more fertile and green here, and hunting was easier. In the new spring of the land, the flowers of Ulthuan blossomed, adorning the hillsides in a wealth of colour, forming a soft carpet for the stern black boots of the gaunt Shadow Warriors. Yet Caryndil would not slow his pace to take in the magic of the spring. He proceeded relentlessly southward, heading to the Council.
A great meeting of the elders of Nagarythe was planned. Drutchii raids had increased in frequency and severity, and Falryr, a leader of the western tribes had summoned Caryndil, to report his deeds in the Northlands. It was a request which could not be denied, and it was a great honour as well. Therefore, even his lean, pale face began to show his excitement as he neared the council area, a high hill, with the ruins of a tower at its summit. At the foot of the hill, Caryndil's band stopped, and were challenged by the sentries.
" Who are you, that you presume to enter the Council of Nagarythe?" spoke one of the sentries, an old, grizzled warrior.
" I am Caryndil son of Morindil, captain of the Eagle tribe of the Western Hills. " Caryndil spoke his lineage, and the name of his band. He showed the guard the lecai rune on his shield.
The guard bowed in acknowledgement. " Hail, and be welcome to the Council, Commander Caryndil. Lord Falryr has been waiting for you. "
Caryndil and his band continued up the hill, encountering more and more of their kin. As they saw themselves surrounded by more and more of their own people, the uneasiness and tension of the past few weeks began to fade, and the elves began to smile as they recognised their brothers and sisters in arms, Shadow Warriors from all over the Northlands. There were at least twelve score Shadow Warriors there, and all but two of the Eight Elders of Nagarythe, each a leader of a group of tribes. Caryndil made his way to the white pavilion of Falryr amid the smells of roasting game and wood smoke, and surrounded by the sounds of an Elven camp; the gentle thrums of lyres and harps, the wind on the tall grass, and the sylvan laughter of the Elves themselves. As he approached the pavilion, Falryr, an ancient elf clad in a white tunic and grey cloak, stepped out.
" Ah, welcome, Caryndil! " he said, with the beginnings of a smile on his tired face. " I trust your journey went well?"
"Well enough, my Lord. We took an enemy patrol at unawares in a wood, and slew them all." Caryndil remembered the ambush.
" I see. Were there any casualties?"
"No, my Lord. We were very successful."
" Excellent. It is because of your recent skirmishes with the cursed Ones that you were summoned to the Council," Falryr went on, " There are many things to be discussed tonight, primarily the purpose of the raids into the North"
Caryndil stiffened with excitement-perhaps now he would learn the designs of the enemy. But before he could further enquire as to the issue, Falryr spoke. " But these are matters for learned concourse and discussion- Come! Let me introduce you to some friends of mine. "
With this, he entered the pavilion, Caryndil following him. Inside, the light was gentle and cool, the evening air made the inside glow with comfort. Seated on two low stools were a curious pair of Elves. Both were tall, powerful elves in the prime of life. One wore a long suit of mail, fringed with blue, and in his belt was a great long sword. The other was dressed much as Falryr was, but he bore a mighty battleaxe, and wore, as a cloak, the pelt of a White Lion. Caryndil's surprise melted quickly into awe.
Falryr broke the silence.
" These are two of my friends; Lindenal, " he indicated the elf with the sword, " is a Swordmaster of the Tower of Hoeth, and Famenon," he pointed to the White Lion " is a warrior of Chrace, one of the illustrious White Lions."
Caryndil bowed, and the two seated elves returned his gesture of respect. Falryr made an expansive gesture, " May I bring you some refreshment? Some wine, perhaps? It is from Avelorn- a gift from one of her Majesty the Everqueen's handmaidens. "
Caryndil accepted the glass. The wine was fresh, dark and cool, it had a natural, almost fruity taste to it. Falryr grinned. " We may only be wandering warriors, my friends," he gestured at Lindenal and Famenon," but this luxury at least we possess."
Lindenal replied, " The service of the Shadow Warriors is invaluable to the defence of our Realm. You honour us with your gift."
Falryr bowed, " I am glad. Let us take a moment to relax, ere we join the council fire to discuss weightier matters, eh? I trust that your entourage will find a suitable site to camp, commander."
Caryndil bowed slightly and sat. There followed an intriguing conversation about the current state of affairs in the Court of the Everqueen, the latest scandals in Lothern, and, much more interesting to Caryndil, the work of Lindenal in the Tower of Hoeth. He was fascinated by the story Lindenal told him, of decades spent learning the arts of swordcraft, but also meditation, the pursuit of wisdom, and the history of the Elven race. All four elves were thus engaged when a young sentry entered the tent and bade them come to the council fire.
Caryndil rose, bowed to his host, as well as to the Swordmaster and the Lion. He then left the tent and entered the cool embrace of the evening. A fire had been started in the base of the ruined tower, and around it the Shadow Warriors were seating themselves. Caryndil located his band, and strode over to where they sat, near a ruined arch. Hylindor had roasted several wild ducks, and the company feasted on these while the Council came to life. More and more Warriors arrived, sitting on the outskirts of the
tower ring and around the crest of the hill. Caryndil was startled when, without any preamble, a tall elf in a green tunic rapped his staff on the ground sharply, as his assistant blew a horn.
" Hail, and well met, Warriors of the North!" he cried.
"Hail!" came the reply.
"Be welcome to the Council of Nagarythe! Behold the Elders! They come now to give counsel. Pay heed, ye Warriors, for now shall be revealed many secrets, now shall many plans and designs be born."
" We hear thee!" came the enthusiastic reply.
At a meeting of any other elf folk, there would have been hours of song and dance before the actual council took place, but these elves here were Shadow Warriors, born to impatience and haste. They waited eagerly as the Elders took their seats on a stone platform. Behind Falryr stood the two strangers, Lindenal and Famenon.
Syraith, an elf in Caryndil's band, was confused.
"What do they do here? " he asked Caryndil. " Are our councils now open for all Ulthuan to come and mock us?"
But Caryndil answered him, " They are guests of Falryr, and I trust their purpose for being here will be revealed soon. "
As he said this, a short Elf Elder in the soft red raiment of the Eastern Warriors rose and began,
"Kindred! Let us put aside the trivial issues and petty concerns which so often mar the proceedings-there have been more Druchii raids than ever before since the Great War. There are foul deeds afoot! We cannot ignore the facts!"
A great cheer erupted from the seated Elves. The speaker went on,
" Five towns near the coast were sacked in a single day and night! The blood of our people was poured over the rocks and trees as a warning!" There were many cries of anger and outrage from the council.
A gaunt, wispy elf rose and addressed the company,
" My friends, Hindyr speaks truth. There will be time for anger and vengeance soon, but I must ask you to put aside your wrath until all tales have been told, and all counsels heard! Hearken to me, Elves!"
Hyndyr, the elf in red, bowed and sat back down again. The murmurs of anger came to a halt. With a sigh, the tall elf began his story. It was a grim tale. The Witch King had sent two Black Arks to the shores of Ulthuan, and his armies had poured out from them, taking even the ceaseless watch of Nagarythe by surprise. After the initial assault, instead of following their usual procedure of rapine and murder, the Dark Elves had penetrated deep into the Northlands, separating into small bands and covering vast tracks of the countryside, as far as the Annulli mountains. The old elf believed that they were not an invasion force, but something more sinister.
" They are searching for something," he said, " Their dispatches which we have intercepted are full of phrases such as this- 'No success yet' and 'We cannot find it, but we sense that we are near' "
The elf gazed out at the company.
" I believe you all know very well what it is the Dark Ones are searching for," he spoke, wearily, "For it is the tomb of Alith Anar."