“I did not know.”
“Then how-”
“Galarun’s death rede,” explained Eiron. “The Mages told him that he who first bore the weapon would die within the year.”
Aravan remembered the grim look on Galarun’s face when he had emerged from the Wizardholt of Black Mountain.
Kneeling, slowly the Coron undid the bindings on the blankets, folding back the edges, revealing Galarun’s visage, the features pale and bloodless. From behind, Aravan’s voice came softly. “He let none else touch the sword, and now I know why.”
Coron Eiron stood, motioning to attendants, and they came and took up Galarun’s body, bearing it out from the Coron-hall.
When they had gone, Aravan turned once again unto Eiron. “His death rede: was there. . more?”
The Coron sat on the edge of the dais. “Aye: a vision of the one responsible. It was a pale white fiend who slew my Galarun; like Man he looked, but no mortal was he. Mayhap a Mage instead. Mayhap a Demon. More, I cannot say. Pallid he was, and tall, with black hair and hands lengthy and slender and wild, yellow eyes. His face was long and narrow, his nose straight and thin, his white cheeks unbearded.”
“And the sword. Did Galarun-”
Aravan’s words were cut off by a negative shake of Eiron’s head. “The blade was yet with my son when he died.”
Frustration and anger colored Aravan’s voice. “But now it is missing. Long we searched, finding nought.”
After a moment Eiron spoke: “If not lost in the fen, then it is stolen. And if any has the Dawn Sword, it is he: the pallid one with yellow eyes. Find him and thou mayest find the blade.”
Aravan stepped back and unslung his spear from its shoulder harness; he planted the butt of the weapon to the wooden floor and knelt on one knee. “My Coron, I will search for the killer and for the sword. If he or it is to be found-”
Aravan’s words were cut short, for the Coron wept. And so the Elf put aside the crystal blade and sat next to his liege lord, and with tears in his own eyes, spoke to him of the last days of his valiant son.
Aravan took a deep, shuddering breath. “That was some five millennia agone. . and it was but a year past that Bair and I together finally fulfilled that pledge.”
Aylis nodded. “You recovered the Silver Sword and slew Galarun’s killer, to say nought of slaying Gyphon.”
“Strictly speaking,” said Aravan, “ ’twas Bair who slew Galarun’s killer, Ydral.”
Aylis gave Aravan a quick peck on the cheek and said, “Methinks you were busy at the time dealing with Gyphon.”
At Aylis’s words, Aravan’s embrace tightened about her. “Oh, Chier, we nearly lost it all: not only the pledge and our lives, but the whole of creation.”
“But you did not.” Aylis gave him another quick kiss. “Now let’s talk about something more cheerful. . our trothing perhaps?”
Surrounded by winter-dressed aspens and silver birch, the crystalline waters of Lyslyn Mere lay mirror- smooth in the high, still air of the mountains. On the far side of the mere a cupping massif of alabaster stone rose sheer unto the sky, and mist twined among the trees along the shore. Snow lay upon the ground, but the broad, limpid pool held no ice; instead the waters embraced a clear reflection of stone and woodland and sky.
On a smooth outjut of pale grey granite lying along the brim, an assembly of Elvenkind stood, a female of Magekind among them, and the horses they had ridden to reach this place were tethered among the birch, their breath blowing white in the chill air. To the right of Aravan stood Inarion, for he had vouched for the Alor, and to the left of Aylis stood Faeon, who had done the same for the Dara.
Facing the four as well as the assembly stood Valar-second in command of the fort-for that Lian Guardian had been chosen to conduct the ceremony. And he had spoken the venerable words of plighting, conceived long past and pledged by trothmates ever since. He now came to the last of his guiding words and their replies and affirmations: “. . Hence, to keep thy bond strong ye must share equally in the cultivation of the common ground and in the nurturing of the promises between; and ye must sort among all duties and participate willingly and fully in all which can be shared.”
Valar then took Aylis’s right hand and Aravan’s left and asked, his voice soft, “Do ye comprehend all that ye have declared?”
Both Aravan and Aylis looked into one another’s eyes. We do , they said in unison.
“Then speak true: Do ye vow to each other to tend the common ground and to cherish the pledges given and received?”
I do vow , they said in unison.
“Then speak true: Will ye plight thy troth to one another, forsaking all who would come between?”
I do vow.
Valar then placed Aylis’s hand in Aravan’s and clasped their joined hands in his. “Then, Dara Aylis, then, Alor Aravan, each having spoken true, go forth from here together and share thy joys and thy burdens in equal measure until thine individual destinies determine otherwise.”
Valar embraced each of them, first Aylis, then Aravan, and then called out to all: “ Alori e Darai, va da, Dara Aylis e Alor Aravan, avan taeya e evon a plith .”
And even as Aravan and Aylis kissed, a great shout went up from all and echoed among the mountains of the Durynian Range.
They rode back to the fort, Elves singing the leagues away, and as they entered through the main gate, they were greeted by cheers from those who had remained on ward. Into the partially completed assembly hall they escorted the new-pledged pair, where they found a feast waiting. The celebration lasted long, Elven bards taking turns, while lyre and lute and drum and flute filled the air with music. Poems were spoken and songs were sung and dances sedate were stepped and dances wild were flung. Each in turn, all the Alori danced with Aylis and all the Darai with Aravan. And there was much laughter and cheer. But at last even Elvenkind had to call it a night, though they led Aravan and Aylis to their quarters, and sang them a pleasant eve.
Two days after, amid farewells and trailing packhorses, Aravan and Aylis rode out from the fort, heading for the Eldwood forest of Darda Falain, lying some three hundred leagues away. There they would cross over to the Eldwood forest of Darda Galion on Mithgar on their way to their beloved Elvenship Eroean .
Standing on the banquette along the palisades, Eiron and Faeon watched them ride away. And when the last of the trailing horses vanished among the distant trees, Eiron took Faeon by the hand, and they turned and went down the ramp and back to the business essential.
13
JOURNEY TO THE EROEAN
MID SPRING, 6E1
In a tiny glade by a crystalline mere in the dawntime upon Mithgar, canting and chanting, their horses dancing an arcane sidle step, Aylis and Aravan came riding out from the in-between and into the Eldtree forest of Darda Galion. In the air above and winging across on their own came silverlarks singing, their carols heralding the onset of a new day, for a new day indeed had come. And in spite of a gentle rain, a warm spring breeze purled among the soaring giants, the trees shedding twilight down upon the woodland below, for within the Larkenwald Elvenkind dwelled, which the Eld Trees somehow sensed and responded to.
Aylis and Aravan were some three hundred leagues from Merchants Crossing in the south, there where the
