Silverthorn (Riftware Sage Book 2)

Arutha smiled a wry smile. “Not very many.”

 

 

Martin returned the smile, almost a mirror image. “True, but still there are one or two. From what Galain said about Moraelin, stealth and cunning will be more important than strength. What if you marched Vandros’s army up there and found Moraelin lay just the other side of a lovely road like the one up to the abbey at Sarth? Remember the one Gardan avowed could be held by a half-dozen grannies with brooms? I’ll warrant Murmandamus has more than a half-dozen grandmothers up there. Even if you could battle Murmandamus’s hordes and win, could you order one soldier to give his life so Anita should live? No; you and this Murmandamus play a game, for high stakes, but still a game. As long as Murmandamus thinks he can lure you up to Moraelin, we have a chance of stealing in and getting Silverthorn.”

 

Arutha looked at his brother. “We do?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

 

“Of course. As long as we don’t spring die trap, it remains open. That is the nature of traps. If they don’t know we’re already inside, we might even get out.” He spent a quiet moment looking northward, then said, “It’s so close. It’s just up in those mountains, a week from here, no more. It’s so close.” He laughed at Arutha. “It would be a shame to come so close and quit.”

 

Arutha said, “You’re mad.”

 

“Perhaps,” said Martin. “But just think, it’s so close.”

 

Arutha had to laugh. “All right. We leave tomorrow.”

 

 

 

 

 

The six riders set out the next morning, with the blessings of the Elf Queen and Tomas. Calin, Galain, and two other elves ran alongside the horsemen. As they lost sight of the Queen’s court, a gwali swung along through the trees, crying, “Calin!”

 

The Elf Prince signaled a halt and the gwali dropped from the branches and grinned at them. “Where mans going with Calin?”

 

“Apalla, we take them to the northern road. Then they travel to Moraelin.”

 

The gwali became agitated and shook his furry head. “No go, mans. Bad place. Little Olnoli eaten there by bad thing.”

 

“What bad thing?” said Calin, but the gwali ran off shrieking in fright before an answer was forthcoming.

 

Jimmy said, “Nothing like a happy send-off.”

 

Calin said, “Galain, return and find Apalla and see if you can glean any sense from what he says.”

 

Galain said, “I’ll find out what he means and follow after.” He waved to the travelers and headed back after the gwali. Arutha motioned for the party to continue.

 

For three days the elves guided them to the edge of their forests, up into the foothills of the Great Northern Mountains. Then, at midday on the fourth day, they came to a small stream, and on the other side they could see the trail leading through the woodlands, toward a canyon. Calin said, “Here is the limit of our holdings.”

 

Martin said, “What of Galain, do you think?”

 

“It may be he discovered nothing of worth, or it may have taken him a day or two to find Apalia. The gwali can be difficult to locate if they decide to be. If Galain meets us, we’ll direct him after you. He will overtake you as long as you haven’t crossed over into the heart of Moraelin.”

 

“Where would that be?” said Arutha.

 

“Follow that trail for two days until you come to a small valley. Cross it, and on the north face you’ll see a waterfall. A trail leads up from there, and atop the plateau you’ll be near the top of the falls. Follow the river upward, until you reach its source. From that lake you’ll find a trail again moving upward, again to the north. That is the only way to Moraelin. You’ll find a canyon, which winds around the lake in a complete circle. Legend says it is the tracks made by the mourning Elf Prince, wearing the ground down around the lake. It is called the Tracks of the Hopeless. There is only one way into Moraelin, across a bridge made by the moredhel. When you cross the bridge over the Tracks of the Hopeless, you will be in Moraelin. There you will find the Silverthorn. It is a plant with a light silver-green leaf of three lobes, with fruit like red holly berries. You will recognize it at once, for its name describes it: the thorns are silver. If nothing else, get a handful of the berries. It will lie close to the edge of the lake. Now go, and may the gods protect you.”

 

With brief farewells the six riders moved oft’, Martin and Baru in the lead, Arutha and Laurie following, Jimmy and Roald bringing up the rear. As they followed a turn, Jimmy glanced back, until he could no longer see the elves. He turned eyes forward, knowing they were now on their own, without allies or haven. He said a silent prayer to Banath and took a deep breath.

 

 

 

 

 

FIFTEEN - Return