Bane of Malekith Read online

  Teclis found a clearing and patted the pegasus’s shoulder and pointed down. Silver Wing had no difficulty understanding. The steed circled cautiously, as if looking for threats, and then descended.

  There was a brief, half-terrifying, half-exhilarating sense of moving far too fast over the ground as the winged horse touched down. The pegasus beat the air furiously with its wings and they slowed. Teclis had a few moments to worry about Silver Wing stumbling on a hidden pothole and sending him tumbling to a broken neck before they came to a halt.

  Nervously, Teclis unstrapped himself, dismounted and looked around. He felt alone and vulnerable, as he never had before in the woods of Ulthuan. It was more than simply the fact that he knew there was a hostile army out there that would gladly torture him to death if it found him. It was something to do with being on the ground again, away from the sky and the wind and the lonely heights where nothing could threaten him but the birds. He found that now the motion had stopped, he missed it.

  He could see much better in the gathering gloom than he ever had been able to do before. That was obviously the War Crown’s work. He took it off, and found the circle encompassed by his sight and hearing shrank. The world blurred and became far more difficult to see. Despite its weight, he put the helmet on again. Everything became sharp and clear once more. It saddened Teclis to know that he needed magic and artificial aids to make him the equal of a normal elf. It came to him that in some ways this quest was madness. He was not fit for this, but then if he was not, who was?

  He began to rub down Silver Wing with a saddle blanket. The pegasus began to graze, occasionally pausing to sniff the air and whinny. The sound was not exactly fearful – Silver Wing was not the sort of animal that gave a sense of that – but it was uneasy, as if the pegasus was catching the scent of something it disliked.

  Teclis moved to the edge of the forest and gathered wood. He returned to the centre of the clearing and piled it up. He put his body between the pegasus and the wood before he spoke the word of power that turned the kindling into a blazing fire. It was likely the flying horse was used to such magic, but there was no sense in taking the chance of spooking it.

  The pegasus returned to where he sat and nuzzled him gently. Teclis patted its head, grateful for the company. The scent and warmth of the huge beast was reassuring. At night, Avelorn did not sound like the more domesticated woods of Saphery. Out there, huge beasts roared, and other animals shrieked as they died. A massive white owl glided across the clearing, and stooped on some small prey.

  This was nature, Teclis thought, a place where living things ate each other raw. He did not much care for it.

  He was contemplating setting his wards for the night when he looked up, startled. He was surrounded by elves. They did not look exactly menacing, but they did not look friendly either. Several of them had bows trained on him. It seemed the Crown had not amplified his senses quite enough. It came to him that perhaps he had a problem.

  ‘I had heard the elves of Avelorn were stealthy. Let me congratulate you on living up to your reputation.’ He was proud of himself. His voice was steady. He had managed a deadpan politeness worthy of Prince Iltharis.

  ‘It does not look like a druchii,’ said a voice.

  ‘I am not a creature of indeterminate sex,’ said Teclis. ‘I would be obliged if you referred to me as he.’

  ‘It does not sound like a druchii,’ said another. ‘More like an effeminate scholar.’

  ‘This effeminate scholar will be forced to teach you manners soon,’ said Teclis. He really was starting to sound like Prince Iltharis.

  ‘And how will you do that? With that pretty slender blade at your side? It looks good but you must be able to use it.’

  ‘So this is the legendary hospitality of Avelorn. It seems somewhat over-rated.’

  ‘You do not sound as troubled as I would expect someone a heartbeat from death to sound.’

  ‘If you use your eyes, you will notice I am a wizard. I am protected by several powerful charms against arrows. I am quite capable of killing you all with a word, which I would rather not have to do, since I have a natural aversion to killing simpletons. It does not seem quite fair somehow.’

  Teclis was surprised by how calm he sounded, how easily the words came. He had a mission. He was not going to let anything stand in the way of his completing it. He was even prepared to put his fellow asur to death if they tried to obstruct him.

  ‘I don’t think a druchii spy would talk like that,’ said one of the voices.

  ‘You’ve met a lot of Naggarothi spies, have you?’ asked the first voice, obviously the leader.

  ‘I am Teclis, Loremaster of Hoeth. I am seeking my brother, Prince Tyrion, who will be, if he follows his usual lecherous habits, in the company of your Everqueen.’

  A stunned silence followed that announcement. Teclis wondered if perhaps he had overdone the insouciance.

  ‘The Everqueen is dead,’ said the one who sounded like the leader. ‘If he is with her, your brother is too.’

  A shock ran through Teclis. ‘You have seen this with your own eyes?’

  ‘We have met those who were at the tournament grounds when the druchii attacked. They saw it.’

  ‘I would talk with them,’ said Teclis.

  ‘We still have not decided whether you are a spy or not.’

  ‘I come here riding on a pegasus and wearing the War Crown of Saphery, and you ask me if I am a dark elf spy?’

  ‘Anybody can make outrageous claims,’ said the asur. ‘Talk is easy.’

  ‘Obviously thinking is harder.’

  ‘If he was a dark elf spy he probably would not be so rude,’ said a voice from the gloom. Teclis could sense a shift away from outright hostility to something else. They did not see him as an immediate threat. Most of them seemed to be prepared to take him at face value.

  ‘I am seeking my brother and the Everqueen. If they are alive, I can find them and help them. If they are dead, you will be doing no harm.’

  ‘You might be trying to find out where our camp is.’

  ‘Bring your friends here to me then and I will talk to them.’

  The leader nodded. ‘Jaq, go and fetch the survivors. We’ll stay here and keep an eye on this fop.’

  ‘If you have no objections, I will prepare my medicines.’

  ‘Your medicines?’

  ‘I require them for my health.’

  ‘You carry some sort of plague?’ the elf leader asked him.

  ‘I have been troubled by ill-health since birth.’

  ‘You are a strange one. I think I am starting to believe you.’

  ‘I am touched,’ said Teclis. He took out some waybread and offered it around. The elves refused although they looked hungry. He shrugged and ate, and began to mix his potions in their alembics. He removed the War Crown so he could drink. He had finished with them when the scouts returned with some stunned, haggard-looking elves. Their gaudy celebrants’ clothes contrasted oddly with their staring, haunted eyes. A few of them were heavily armoured warriors leading huge warhorses. Their leader was a tall, noble-looking elf.

  ‘Our friends here say you claim to be Prince Tyrion’s brother,’ he said.

  ‘I am his twin, Teclis.’

  ‘I am Arhalien of Yvresse.’ He came closer and inspected Teclis closely. ‘It is odd. You are much gaunter and darker than your brother, but there is a certain resemblance.’ The other elves present relaxed when Arhalien said this, becoming a fraction less wary and on edge.

  ‘You have seen my brother?’

  ‘I bested him in a tournament a few days ago.’

  ‘Then you are one of the few elves living who can say that.’

  ‘That I can well believe. I have never seen a better elf with a blade. He used weapons as if born to them.’

  ‘I would be grateful if you would not refer to him in the past tense.’

  ‘It would be a miracle if he were still alive. The tournament grounds were overrun by a vast
dark elf army…’

  ‘And yet, you are still here…’

  Arhalien smiled ruefully.

  ‘It was good fortune. I was camped by the edge of the tournament grounds with my retainers. I could not sleep after the excitement of the day and I was checking our sentries when I noticed one of them seemed to be asleep. When I checked I found his throat had been cut. A moment later I was beset by assassins. I cut them down and shouted the alarm. Within moments the whole camp was a battleground.

  ‘I rallied my warriors and we made a stand. After that I tried to cut my way to the centre of the camp but it was hopeless, there was an army between us and them. We were sore beset and only just managed to cut our way free.’

  ‘So you never actually saw my brother fall.’

  ‘I passed his encampment. I thought to join forces with him, but by the time I got there all were dead.’

  ‘You saw his body?’

  Arhalien shook his head. ‘I saw a dozen of his friends, Atharis and others. Corpses were piled in heaps all around. It was howling chaos. But honesty compels me to say I saw no body, of Tyrion at least.’ Honesty seemed to be something of importance to this elf.

  ‘So you cannot be utterly certain that my twin is dead.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Or the Everqueen? Did you see her body?’

  ‘No. You are making me feel very foolish and guilty, Prince Teclis.’

  ‘An elf is the best judge of his own conduct.’ Teclis knew he was being rude and unsympathetic. Arhalien seemed decent and brave – he must be a very great warrior indeed to have beaten Tyrion and fought his way clear of the massacre.

  ‘I will accompany you on your quest. If your brother and the Everqueen are still alive, they may need aid from both of us.’

  Tyrion gestured towards Silver Wing. ‘Unless your horse grows wings you will only slow me down.’

  ‘You think it likely your brother and the Everqueen are still alive?’

  Teclis shrugged and spread his hands wide. ‘Since we were very young my brother and I have shared a bond. We have always known when the other was hurt or in danger. I have a terrible nagging fear concerning Tyrion, but I do not think he is dead. And if he is alive, the Everqueen may be too. I have no reason to say so but hope, however.’

  Arhalien sighed. ‘I had hoped your magic had given you a vision of something better. You are said to be a very great mage. And you are not without courage. These woods teem with druchii.’

  ‘Have you any idea how they got here?’

  ‘You are the wizard. I was hoping you could tell me.’

  ‘Once again I must dash your hopes.’

  ‘Perhaps you will uncover the secret on your travels.’

  ‘It is a great one, if it has let the dark elves penetrate into the very heart of Avelorn and beyond.’

  That got the attention of the elves around him. It came to him that they had all been trapped in these vast woods and could not possibly have had news of the rest of the kingdom.

  ‘Beyond?’ Arhalien asked.

  ‘Ulthuan is invaded. A horde of human barbarians led by Morathi is in the north. Malekith himself leads an army to the west of here. Lothern is beset by traitors from within and fleets from without. That was the word at the White Tower when I left.’

  A shocked murmur rippled away into the darkness. ‘These are terrible tidings,’ said Arhalien. ‘The Witch King himself… He has not set foot on Ulthuan since the time of Morvael.’

  ‘I suspect he has returned to claim his father’s kingdom.’

  ‘We respect Aenarion, but Ulthuan was never his fiefdom. He did not own it.’

  ‘I doubt Malekith would agree with you.’

  ‘What can we do?’

  ‘You must fight,’ said Teclis. ‘And you must win.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Ah… that is the hard part.’ They laughed at that. They sounded like elves who had not laughed in a long time.

  ‘Sleep, wizard, we will guard you,’ said Arhalien.

  ‘I will set my wards,’ said Teclis. ‘I was going to do so when you interrupted me.’

  No one objected.

  Teclis lay in the forest. His side hurt like fire. He sat up and looked at the beautiful woman sleeping nearby. He stood easily, much more easily than Teclis had ever found natural, and looked around with an eyesight that was keener than even that the War Crown gave to him. He was tired but he could not sleep. Somewhere out there in the distance the druchii were moving, coming ever closer.

  Part of Teclis knew this was ludicrous. He was asleep and he was dreaming that he was Tyrion. It was one of those special dreams that had been very common when they were children but much less so as they got older. He was glad. His brother was still alive and so was the Everqueen. This was the first conclusive proof he had of it. He was not on a fool’s errand then. There was still a chance of finding his brother before it was too late.

  He tried to memorise any of the things that Tyrion could see, hoping for some clue as to where he was. It was hopeless. He was surrounded by trees, and all the different parts of the forest looked alike to Teclis. He could hear the sound of running water nearby. His brother was near a powerful river, that much was certain. The only large river that Teclis knew of that was near here was the Everflow although it was a river of great length. At least he had a direction to head in.

  Things twisted, as was their wont in dreams, and he was no longer in Tyrion’s body. He was standing on a high ledge, overlooking a vast intricate pattern. The pattern was starting to fade in places despite the efforts of the ancient ghosts who maintained it.

  Things twisted again and he was standing in a chamber that seemed familiar, where Caledor leaned forwards over a gameboard and moved a piece. Opposing him over the table was a shadowy figure that Teclis knew it would not be good to look too closely at. As if sensing his presence, the figure turned its head and looked up at him with cold empty eyes. Teclis felt himself falling forwards into those eyes and into oblivion.

  He woke in a cold sweat, feeling as if he had just had a very narrow escape indeed.

  Teclis rose with the dawn. He felt like blasting the birds singing so cheerfully in the trees. His shoulders felt as if someone had been punching them all night. His back hurt and so did his hip. Sleeping on the ground did not agree with him.

  Arhalien was already awake and inspecting Silver Wing with his knightly companions. The elves of Avelorn were not visible. Teclis put on the War Crown, although it felt like the weight of it might break his neck this morning. Immediately his eyesight improved and he saw a few elves asleep in lean-tos under the eaves of the forest. He suspected there were others out there guarding them.

  Arhalien walked over. In the early morning sunlight, Teclis could see his surcoat was grubby and blood-spattered. His armour was dented. The links had been broken and hastily repaired in some places. The ornate working on the hilt of his blade was dented and damaged. His companions looked to be in similar straits. He really did look as if he had fought his way clear of a brutal battle and spent the last few days racing ahead of terrible enemies through muddy woods. Teclis invoked the spell that kept his robes clean and his gear sparkling bright.

  ‘You woke bright and early with the woodlarks,’ said Arhalien, smiling.

  ‘If it was not for those damnable winged vermin I might still be asleep.’

  ‘You intend to go ahead with your plan?’

  ‘I dreamt last night of my brother and the Everqueen. I believe they are alive and in danger. Dark elves pursue them through the forest.’

  ‘Do you know where?’

  ‘Would that I did! I must go to the tournament grounds and try and pick up their trail there.’

  ‘How will you do that?’

  ‘Magic.’

  ‘I wish that I could come with you.’

  ‘I would welcome that, but it is not to be. Silver Wing can carry only one of us.’

  ‘I believe I will take my warriors north and see if I can
be of some help.’

  ‘It might be better if you escorted the refugees southwards to the White Tower. It is the only place where they will be safe.’

  ‘I am not sure any place is safe any more,’ Arhalien said.

  ‘You may well be right.’

  ‘May Isha watch over you,’ Arhalien said.

  ‘May you live a thousand years,’ Teclis responded, but with foreboding.

  Chapter Twelve

  Teclis felt strangely lonely as the ground fell away below him. His companions of the night waved farewell. Silver Wing circled, giving him a chance to respond. After that, they continued to fly northwards, following the line of the Everflow.

  Teclis was as nervous as ever, strapped into the saddle, but he found he was able to concentrate on some of the things happening below him. It was fascinating, seeing the great forest from the air and noticing the way the river carved through it. There were a number of waterfalls and in places the current looked very swift.

  After a time, he noticed that he was not alone. Below him he could see large bodies of elves moving. Logic told him that they had to be interlopers, druchii, the invaders of whom he had heard so much and seen so little of previously.

  He nudged Silver Wing to descend. The pegasus responded reluctantly, as if it sensed danger. Crossbow bolts begun to whizz by, some of them only deflected by Teclis’s magic. He caught sight of heavily armoured dark elf warriors firing up at him.

  With the power of the War Crown of Saphery enhancing his eyesight, he could make out the decorative metalwork on their helmets and the insignia on their shields. He could tell that there was a magician down there because he felt the shift in the currents of the winds of magic. He readied himself for the attack that was not long coming. A bolt of pure magical energy lanced upwards towards him.

  He invoked a swift counterspell and neutralised it.

  Silver Wing whinnied and pulled upwards into a steep climb, instinctively avoiding the terrible magic that had been unleashed beneath it. A few half-hearted crossbow bolts succumbed to gravity behind him and there was no further spell from the wizard who had previously attacked them.