Sword and Sorcery, a Novel

10

From Gildyr's weary perspective, all had been going tensely, quietly, but in the right direction, at least. He, Valerian, Salem and the ranger had been headed westward and down through a network of deep, mobile tunnels beneath Starloft Castle. Never chatty, Val was silent and blank as a tomb, leading their way with gesture and mage-glow.

Then, at a narrow gate forged of heavenly steel, the elf-lord stopped walking and turned to face his companions, looking ready for battle. Must have slowed time, because he at once became no more than a blur of color and insect-like sound.

The Tabaxi vanished, Lord Valerian disappeared and the way before them was utterly blocked with enchantment and stone; plugged tight as a djinn in a bottle, sealed up with mystical arts.

The sense of Val's words to Gildyr: Wake the forest, raise towering walls of briar and thorn, defend my stronghold, Druid… These got through the time-play, as did the high-elf's icy distrust.

As for the ranger, Kalisandra shook with emotion she struggled to master. Gripped something tight in one fist that at first she opened her hand to stare at, then flung aside with a blistering curse.

Gildyr cleared his throat. In his mildest, least pressing tone, the druid said,

"Well, then, he's off again. I think we should…"

"There is no 'we', woodling," snapped Kalisandra, pivoting to glare at him. "I swore to protect and accompany Valerian, not his retainers. You have your orders. Be off!"

Gildyr sighed, pretty nearly fed up with the pair of them.

"Small wonder his lordship does most of his talking in time-shift, when he can't get a word in greased down and sideways, otherwise," he said. "How have you two been betrothed this long, and not learned to listen?"

Found himself staring at a nocked black stick gone suddenly pointed and barbed. Past that and the bow, to a pair of hard blue and brown eyes.

"More funny words, druid, and I find some forgotten well in which to drop your hilarious corpse," snarled Kalisandra. "I do not need your advice, your opinions or your companionship. Be off about your business. I shall guard the gate with my bow and with More-than-She-Seems."

That was straightforward enough, Gildyr supposed. At least she'd be safe, here, while he got the palace defenses in order, then made his own way down. Because, what his impatient, arrogant lordship didn't know was that there were other ways out to the goblin tunnels. The paths of root, spore and filament were quite unknown to a lofty high-elf… who needed help, whether he admitted it or not.

Gildyr smiled, bowing as much as he could without scratching his forehead on that glittering dwarf-forged arrow.

"As you say, Milady, I have my orders."

…and a friend, for the sudden brush of Karus's mind told the druid that the forest lord had shifted planes to rejoin him. Other than Grey Fang and the kitts, there was no one he'd rather have sensed. Gildyr's smile was warm and genuine as he said,

"Farewell, Milady. Be safe, until our return."

Then the druid vanished away in a swirl of conjured dry leaves. Kalisandra waited a moment longer. Finally lowered her bow and spelled it away, once again. Only then, sure that no one was watching her, did she bend down to retrieve the small charm Val had placed in her hand. Next dusted it carefully off and put it away for safe-keeping.

The stupid northerner's mage light still glowed, but Sandy conjured a fire, anyhow. Set up her wards and readied her spells, saying to stillness and silence,

"You're not a burden."

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Moving as fast as they were able (which was not very) Lerendar and the goblin mage set a riddling path. They took full advantage of slow-grinding tunnels and blind stubs to catch rides and shift levels, letting the cavescape do the moving wherever possible.

In this way, after a scant few candle-marks travel, they came to a stable natural cavern. Like a dark, fanged mouth it was toothy with dripping stalactites and fat, gleaming pillars of flowstone.

There was an angular crack in the floor, from which wafted cold air and mist… with the scent of deep, silent water below. The ceiling was twice elf-height, a roomy gallery for goblins, and a place in which Lerendar could stand as erect as his wounds and the crutch would let him.

The floor crack was spanned in one spot by a slippery flowstone arch. Seemed like a decent defensive position to Lerendar, and the shades all concurred. Two of them flickered away to stand watch, leaving the elf-lord with Bony for help and support.

Lerendar straightened as best he could, rubbing a knot in his back. Turned his gaze from that high, dripping arch to the elderly goblin mage. He'd been about to suggest that the wizard nip across to the other side, but Grey Fang couldn't have climbed an ant hill in his current condition, the elf judged.

…and maybe neither could he.

"The place for a mage is in back, Old Timer," Lerendar grunted. "Well out of sword-thrust and spear-cast. Come, I'll escort you across."

Surprised himself and the goblin, both, by extending a hand. After a moment, the old fellow accepted, and they started across, one cautious step at a time. All senses alert, Grey Fang probing their way with the end of his staff; puffing like bellows, the pair of them.

"And… fer one with no sword an' no spear, 'imself… what're yer plans on the other side, Milord?" panted Grey Fang.

Lerendar took a deep breath, considered briefly, and then flashed a grin which was mostly lost to the darkness.

"Haven't thought about it. I'm making this up as I go along," he admitted. Then, changing the subject, "Not much further. The rest is downhill. Just… if your dignity doesn't pinch, overmuch… sit, and scoot the rest of the way on your rump. Then, mumble and wave to your heart's content. I'll be glad of the help, Wizard."

They parted at the top of the arch, winded and sore. There being not much to say, the elf-lord and goblin made do with a nod, then inched cautiously into position at near- and far-side of the crevice.

Grey Fang cast a bright golden light, leaving no darkness or shadow from which anything vile might transport itself. He also placed some sort of skittery rat-blessing on Lerendar, who felt more agile, a little more capable of his usual all-out fighting style. Possibly mostly illusion, but it made him feel stronger.

Better still, he got the sudden sense that Shorty had got there, was very close now, indeed. Forced himself straighter, at that, because he would not meet his brother doubled over and hobbling.

Then one of the shades came streaming back over the cave floor like a river of ink. The other had spread himself out to web up the cavern's opening. As Tendons plunged back in, Lerendar saw through the shade's misty senses, catching a very quick glimpse of the monster that followed them.

"It's here," he called over one shoulder, pulling his sling and fishing spear out of their faerie pockets. "Legless is doing his best to conceal the opening, but… No. It's not going to work. It can sense us."

To the third shade, he said urgently,

"Come back! Together, we can face anything. Alone, we'll be picked off in series."

…and he couldn't lose anyone else. Long unused to mattering, the shade wavered a moment. Then Legless heeded the elf-lord's emotion, if not his words of command. Another dark river shot over the floor, picking up this rock and that for use as sling missiles.

With a full set of friends and the mage at his back, Lerendar took a step forward, calling to any god who would listen for strength to face what was coming.

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It was well after sunset, out in the palace courtyard, when Gildyr found Reston. Now lord-warden of Starshire, the bearded half-elf was not at the front with his outnumbered warband. He'd been detained by a couple of rear-guards who'd dragged an unconscious young elf away from the transport sigil.

"We found this one trying to flee, Lord Reston," said the higher-ranked Guard. "Timmon clubbed him unconscious but… as he is a fosterling… we thought we'd best bring him to you," she explained.

Reston had been about to mount his bay mare, Dancer. He was needed in battle and had little patience for cowards. A second glance changed his mind, however, for the deserter they'd caught was Lord Garrin Alfrit, the one who'd come up with the disastrous Dry Valley battle plan.

With the noise and smoke of war surrounding him, with icy rage in his heart, only the druid's appearance stopped Reston from slaughtering Alfrit right where he sagged between Shara and Timmon.

'We are betrayed, My Lord,' Reston had said to Valerian, seemingly ages past. Here, perhaps, was the smiler with the knife. The one who would bring down the Tarandahl line with bloodshed and treachery.

…but perhaps he was only a coward, guilty of no more than fear for his life. Reston turned to face Gildyr.

"You, druid. Have you a spell that will keep this traitor unconscious and out of my way? He dies here and now, if not."

Gildyr blinked like an owl, nodding rapidly as he moved sideways to stand before the two guards and their unconscious captive.

"I… yes, Lord-Warden. I can do that. Spare his life and I will place an enchantment of ever-sleep on him. Hopefully, he has a true love knocking about, somewhere. These things are tricky to…"

"Yes. I'm sure. Do it your way, or I'll do it mine," snapped the half-elf, hand at his dagger-hilt.

Took a bit of arranging, as he had to adapt it from Valerian (just in case) to this sprig of a high-elf fosterling, but the job was accomplished… and it really did make the accused more beautiful.

"I still have my web of entanglement," fretted Gildyr, as the two rear-guards bore off their prisoner like the sculpture of some noble young prince. Then,

"Lord Reston, if I've earned a moment more of your time…" ventured Gildyr.

"Speak, druid, and be quick. I am needed at the front," growled the warleader.

"Lord Valerian tasked me with aiding in Starloft's defense," Gildyr told him. "I am to awaken the Tangle- and Hunt-woods, My Lord, and raise a great thorn wall."

Reston handed Dancer's reins to an attendant. Turning to face Gildyr more fully, he asked,

"You can do all of that?"

Gildyr nodded again.

"Yes, Lord-Warden. Faster and better, with the help of my people and Karus."

Reston scratched at his beard.

"I know not this Karus, but the wood-elf ambassador and her retinue can be fetched, at once." To a waiting guard, he said,

"To the refuge, Senet. Find the ambassador and bid her come swiftly, with all of her folk."

"At once, Lord-Warden," said the tall young elf, saluting Reston. He was gone in a flash, leaving the warden and druid to further discussion.

"I will pull my troops away from the battle," said Reston, piercing Gildyr with a hard, wary stare. "Valerian trusts you, and he has a good sense for others. But… if you are lying, druid… if you mean to betray us, you will not live long enough to draw a deep breath. If we die, so do you, and not all your dark arts will save you."

At the half-elf's gesture, a cadre of bowmen surrounded Gildry, arrows nocked and faces pitiless.

"Does anyone just say 'thank you', around here?" sighed the druid. "What I mean to say… I can shape change, Your Lordship. Why would I come out and face you, then try to pull off a double-cross?"

"I have learned to trust those who earn it, druid," the half-elf responded.

It was an awkward quarter candle-mark before the ambassador hurried over with her aides and Senet, who must have gone like the wind.

Gildyr waggled his fingers in greeting.

"Not as bad as it looks, Speaker," he soothed. "Just a small misunderstanding. I…"

"Stop talking and do as you've promised, druid," Reston interrupted.

Where Valerian sparked and shimmered with heat when angry, the half-elf rained ash and crackled with static.

"I have given the order. My troops fall back to the palace. Save them."

Gildyr tilted his head, hearing the bugling call of a mighty elk and feeling the forest lord's strength.

"Lord-Warden, I will do all I can. Speaker, your help and that of your aides will enhance my spell casting."

The ambassador inclined her head.

"Understood. Draw freely, young one."

Her tattooed face was serene in the torchlight as she channeled power to Gildyr.

"Thank you," said the druid, smiling. Then, sinking his mind and heart into the land of Ilirian, he got right to work.

Certain very tall trees, including a mighty oak at the sacred grove, began stirring. Limbs shifted and braided. Trunks split to form legs, sending showers of bark cascading to the ground below. Roots tore free of the soil. Knot-hole eyes opened up and gash-mouths yawned.

Then, creaking and snapping, shedding ice and dead leaves, the tree shepherds strode to the line of retreating elves. They sang as they went; a high, eerie call like wind in the branches.

Wide-eyed elves slipped past them unharmed, along with their horses, war dogs, fire lizards and hawks. Goblins, shape-shifters and gnolls met lashing branches and blizzards of splintered wood. The entire forest moved like a slow-cresting sea; Tangle Wood, Hunt Wood, orchard and grove marching to battle, snatching ravens and drakes from the sky with long, spindly branches and whipping vines. Pulling up boulders, the trees and their shepherds flung them like catapults, pulping goblins and smashing the limbs off of yammering gnolls.

As Reston raised up a vortex of ashes and lightning, Gildyr called forth a wall of tangled briar and poisoned thorn. The ground bulged and cracked, shredded by impossibly fast-growing plants.

One of the gnolls, a hulking monster in ill-fitting armor, raged at the forefront, howling commands to his battle clan. At his order, they began shooting flame-arrows, meaning to burn down the trees.

"Never make yourself obvious," advised Gildyr, calling fungus and spores from the soil to enter the clan-master's nostrils and gaping, fanged mouth. The surging thorn wall soon hid him from sight, but could not block his agonized scream.

By this time, Reston was on his horse and riding as fast as Dancer would carry him to meet his retreating warband. The bowmen around Gildyr one by one lowered their points.

"Thank you," said the druid. "I really am here to help."

Then he nearly fell over, for even with Speaker Anetta's help and that of Karus, he had drained himself almost to death.

Gildyr had barely enough strength left to take the small path of burrow and root, letting fungus and worm guide him to Grey Fang.