Chapter V:
Seasons of Loneliness
Envy
'I cannot believe this has happened; my God, my God!' Giretta wept, burying her head in Noro's stiff arms. When first they wed she took the rigidity of his grip to be a sign of his strength. But when he first had come to her he had no such resistance to her touch. It was not until one of the minor feast days had come, and after Noro had drunk his fill of wine, that she realized that it was the drink that had been the cause of his initial tenderness, and not his love for her. She spent much of her time either in sorrow or in anger, for she found that, now that she had him, she did not want Noro. And now that she understood the role wine and ale had played in their marriage, she knew that he did not want her.
'Do not cry, wife,' Noro said, in a voice at least as impatient as it was comforting. 'We will have time for tears yet. For now see to it that you have the strength to move when we must move. You have been very lucky,' he assured her. 'Many have lost husbands and fathers, but you have retained both.'
In truth she was worried greatly for Nihls, though she had not spoken to him for a long while. She knew that he would more than likely do something noble and foolish and get himself killed. She also knew that in his arms she might find a truly sympathetic caress - and not only when he was moved by wine or ale. Nay, all the love he bore for her, she knew, was a sober and therefore genuine sentiment. Nihls would hold her and comfort her without any expectation or designs. At least, he would have before she had wed Noro. Now she could not expect such a thing. Nihls would not do anything that might seem unseemly to another man's wife.
Amarin and Ebbe had found them along the road the morning after the attack, and they traveled together to the border of Alwan, where a great camp of survivors was hastily constructed. Ebbe seemed positively terrified by the spear that now seemed to accompany Noro wherever he went. Amarin just shrugged after looking at it uneasily for a moment. He was not about to pick one up himself just yet, but so long as none of the Wisemen objected, it was hardly his responsibility to worry about it. Giretta said nothing about it, but no matter where they stood or where they went her eyes refused utterly to acknowledge the weapon.
Noro took charge of the survivors, ordering their camp and rationing their supplies. He took to leadership naturally, and soon won the respect of all, if he had it not already from his reputation in Thedval. The greater portion of those who followed him, however, were not originally Enthedu, but had come to them recently, fleeing the wars of the elves. Many of these took up weapons also, and something of a guard was formed to protect the people as they traveled. 'It would not be murder, after all, to defend one's own life,' they reasoned. They had embraced all the ways of the Enthedu, but their peaceful ways last of all, and not fully. They were all too eager to stand beside Noro for the sake of the survivors.
Garam was among the survivors as well, but he found himself powerless in the presence of Noro. He know somewhat of the misery his own folly had brought upon his daughter. He was fearful of Noro, partly because he knew the man must hate him, and partly because he feared that his wrath might be turned against his daughter. He was the chief of the Wisemen who had escaped. If he did not oppose Noro then there were no others who would dare.
'The valley is lost to us, and we are lost to the valley,' he thought sorrowfully. 'We no longer are Enthedu, old friend,' he said, thinking of Sazo. 'We need a new name indeed.'
The next morning Nihls woke Meidi early and the two of them made their way south until the sun rose to its height. Meidi rode sullenly on Urian while Nihls led the horse gently by the reigns. They kept off the road as much as they were able, fearing the scouts of the elves. They were traveling deeper into Alwan, and those who had attacked them would not be able to march far in this area without drawing the attention of Pelas' commanders.
When the afternoon had passed they entered the South Wood, which marked the end of Thedval and the beginning of Alwan. Rather, it marked the beginning of Alwan in the minds of the Enthedu - Pelas reckoned the whole valley of Thedval a part of his own kingdom (in truth he saw only two kinds of land: That which was under his power, and that which ought to be so).
By the time the evening came they found themselves within sight of a great camp of people. It was too dark, however, to discern their identity, and Nihls refused to go down to them. Meidi sniffed, but accepted his reasons. She had said very little to him since her escape from her father's house. She spent most of her time weeping, even as she traveled. But Nihls could do nothing for her; nor did he think that he should - for it is not a sign of any malignity to weep for loved ones. He could not decide if an embrace would be appropriate in such a circumstance. Had he been Noro or any of the Wisemen or elders of Thedval, she would have fallen into his arms.
The thought of Giretta and her hatred of the girl restrained him as much as the fear that Meidi herself would not want to be touched by him. Meidi had never treated him more than civilly, and very often far less than that. He knew that she still resented him for what had happened at the bathing pool now so many years ago, but he also knew that there was nothing he could say that would convince her of the truth. Nor would it be in any way appropriate to mention such a thing. It would be dishonorable too, since he could only cleanse his own name by dirtying the good name of others. If it was unfair for him to be treated so on account of such a matter long past, then it would hardly be fair to bring reproach against another. Still, he could not help but feel something of a pull toward her; he wanted very much to do something to ease her sorrows, but there was nothing.
The next morning they went down the hill and entered the camp with the rising of the sun. There they were greeted by many who had fled from Thedval. Many familiar folk were gathered there, but nearly every household had been diminished by the attack of the elves. There were some who survived the attack alone, losing all their family and there were those who, save for some distant relations, lost no one. But on the whole there was not a soul who had not cause for mourning, and even those who lost no one wept with those who had suffered loss.
When it was noised about that Meidi had survived there was some excitement. She was the last among them who could trace their ancestry to Blest Candorian, now that her parents had been slain, and her cousin's household utterly destroyed. There were many others who were, in some manner, also descended from Candorian, but they knew not the names that bound them to that ancient person. In light of all that had been suffered, though, it hardly seemed important to Nihls. The people clung to it as a sign of the Eternal King's good favor. Noro especially seemed to think her escape was positively a miracle - and he indicated that it was even more the miracle for having been brought about by Nihls.
Giretta's heart leaped for joy when she heard that Nihls had survived. But it sank deep into the mire of bitterness when she saw the company in which he traveled - and traveled alone. At the edge of her mind a voice seemed to tell her that she had no right to her jealousy, but she pretended that the thought had not so much as occurred to her.
When division arose about which way the company was to go, and what manner of company they ought to be, she opposed Nihls face to face.
The controversy arose in the following way:
When the night had passed, Noro gathered the elders and the remaining Wisemen at the center of the encampment. He stood with his spear in his left hand, his strong muscles flexed as he gripped it, ready to kill by the look in his eyes. 'No people has had a mission more important than ours,' he began soberly.
Nihls closed his eyes sadly as he listened; he believed at least that Noro meant what he was saying, though he did not believe it was right.
'And we have suffered much for that mission. From the days of Theodysus himself we have been hunted and hated both by the Doctrai and the godhunters of Sunlan. Only in the wilds and in the secret vales have we had safety. We have been prey for goblins and brigands, and for many others besides. The history of the Enthe
du is not so long as other races of men, but it is as long in injuries and sorrows. We have long been patient with our enemies, and we have long sought after peace. But there are times, my brethren, when peace comes only after war. If we are called to peace, then, let us follow after it by the wisest means, and not foolishly as we have hitherto done. Let every man take up a sword or a spear, and let every woman take up a shield and a bow.
'Some may say,' he continued, 'that we must leave such matters to the King, who rules over all things. I say, leave it to him, but keep your weapon close! We would betray our calling if we allowed the wicked men and elves of Alwan and Ilvas to trample us to nothing. We are the people of peace; let us fight for peace and achieve it, then.'
Nihls thought that the Wisemen would rise up against Noro, and demand he renounce his leadership of the people of Theodysus. He expected to hear angered arguments and reprimands, such as he had seen when Teacher Abbon was driven away. But Noro's open opposition to the commands of the Blest was forgotten in the tumultuous praise that followed his speech. 'Sazo's teaching has taken full effect,' Nihls thought bitterly. Noro had forsaken the ways of Theodysus because, to his mind, they were not 'working.' But the teachings of Theodysus are truths, and not means.
When the shouts and cries faded Nihls found himself standing between the people and Noro, his arms raised to gain their attention. He did not know how he had come to stand in this way, but the concern within him burned, and he could do nothing and say nothing except what he said and did that very moment.
'Enthedu,' he began. 'So named because we take ourselves to be nothing, and have our being only in the Hidden Name. But this name is not a call to striving, it is not a command to do or to go, to war or to surrender. It is a call to know. He who slays his neighbor, spills his own blood. This is the truth.'
'So speaks the Enthedu who first bore a sword,' mocked the others. Noro stood silently, letting the fearful people argue against Nihls.
The passions in the camp were too high for any true discourse, and Nihls found himself silenced by noise more than by clever words. In the end he could only say that he would take no part in a fighting Enthedu any more than he would set sail upon a dry river. 'Remove the water,' he said, and you may still call it a river if you will, but it will not be so.'
'Sail the river, then,' a man shouted, 'while there is yet water in it!'
'I will go,' Nihls said, his voice more than on the edge of tears. 'And I welcome any who would follow me.' Without meaning it or realizing it his eyes flashed to Giretta, whose face reddened, at first with warmth and fondness, but in the next instant, as her marriage to Noro returned to her mind, with anger and hatred. A silent but significant exchange took place in that moment between Giretta, who stood beside Noro, and Meidi, who stood near Ebbe and Amarin.
Meidi was looking intently upon Giretta, and the moment their eyes met she walked over to Nihls and stood less than an inch from him, clearly showing her support for his stance - in fact, she only chose to stand with him because she did not want to be partied with Giretta, who had, to her mind at least, taken advantage of Noro's drunkenness in order to get the marriage of her choice. The perils of the moment only served to fuel the enmity between the two women.
If Giretta's face grew any redder it would have caught fire, Amarin thought. She walked forward and stood before Nihls, unleashing all the rage she felt toward Meidi upon him.
'What manner of men do you ask these people to be?' she said, looking down at his sword with spite. 'Men with dull swords; ground down till they would not cut through a pudding. That is what you would have of us. But thank the Eternal one we have some among us who would fight for their women!'
Nihls was too distraught to see the pleading look that entered her eye for but a moment. But she could do nothing; she was wed to Noro, and Nihls would do nothing against their union.
The unfairness of it burned her, and she turned away from him, storming off to stand next to Noro, mirroring Meidi's behavior. Soon the other leaders of the Enthedu began to move, some standing beside Nihls, but most of them moving over to Noro's side.
'Are the Enthedu broken, then?' Nihls asked, no longer able to hold back the tears in his eyes. 'Shall there be two of what can only be one people?'
'If you part from us,' Noro said, with markedly less emotion, 'then it is you who has divided the Enthedu. We are here, and our hands are outstretched toward you, brother.'
Nihls held out his own hand, but neither man moved an inch closer to the other. 'Then farewell,' Nihls said. If any man among you needs aid, do not fear or hesitate to send for me, and I will do what I can to help you. But I cannot help you if you mean to take up arms to do violence.'
With those words the Enthedu parted, some three-hundred and fifty families accompanying Noro in a march westward into Alwan and away from the wars that raged near the Thedul River.
Nihls, however, departed into the south with Meidi, Teacher Eren and his wife, along with a few others following him as he made his way along one of the tributaries of the Thedul River. Before he had departed Amarin walked over to Nihls and took his hand in his own. 'I am sorry, brother,' he said. 'I cannot follow you. I cannot leave Ebbe alone; you must understand me.'
Nihls looked over Amarin's shoulder at Giretta, whose face now looked sad and forlorn. 'I understand you, brother,' Nihls said. 'I pray that the Eternal King will reunite us some day.'
'As do I,' Amarin said.
'Amarin,' Nihls said just as the other man made to turn away.
'What is it?' he asked.
'Keep an eye on her,' he did not need to say who he meant.
They parted ways for the better part of a year.
So Unhappy
Noro was in a sour mood for the rest of that day. He said nothing, but Giretta could see in his eyes a longing and a sadness at the departure of Meidi. Giretta had him, but not his heart. And she was beginning to believe that she never would have his love.
He could not truly blame Giretta for the path his life had taken, but he felt toward her very much the same as if she really was to blame. He had once accused her of plotting against him and Meidi along with her father Garam. But her wrath toward him was so fierce that he abandoned that suggestion altogether, and permanently. The bandage he wore over his left eye for the week following that argument was reminder enough to ensure that he never made that mistake again.
Since he could have no other reason for his ill mood, aside from the plain truth that he loved Meidi and not his own wife, he took to sulking and complaining about Nihls.
Giretta knew enough of the teachings of the Enthedu, and from Nihls she knew enough of Teacher Abbon's ideas, to understand that for all the long history of the people of Theodysus they taught and practiced peace. But Noro's arguments were not folly, to her mind. She could never bring herself to accept Abbon's doctrines.
When she was a very small child she was brought to the Teacher for slapping another. She made her defense as might be expected, laying some offense at the feet of her adversary. But Abbon shook his head and knelt down to look at her eyes. 'No man can move alone; that is what Theodysus taught us. It is not fair to repay a person for an offense, Giretta. For we are all of one spirit, and it is that spirit that suffers all offenses. Suffer every offense as if it were a penalty, and then justice will be done. Do not avenge yourself, for then you only renew the offense. Let your suffering be the end, and then both you and your adversary will be forgiven. He will have paid in your suffering and you will have your revenge in his crime. The spirit is one.'
She had always admired his mystical expressions, and if the world were made of dreams she would accept them, and think them best. But she could not believe that it was the will of the Eternal King to leave his people to suffer and die with no recourse and no defense. The teachings of Abbon were cold and empty, she thought - and dark. But Sazo and the other Wisemen taught of the King's great affection for mankind, and how it is ever i
n his heart to lift them up and not to harm them. If she were to believe Abbon she would be forced to say that it was by the King's will that the elves oppressed mankind, and drove the Enthedu from the valley.
In the end, however, she could not say that the bright and hopeful teachings of Sazo truly contributed a thing toward her own happiness. 'We are not meant for happiness,' she could hear Nihls repeating. He used to say it again and again, and for a time he convinced her to say it every day and at every meal. But her father grew distraught and very nearly threatened to break their betrothal. At the time she wished he would break it.
As they prepared to depart into the west, Giretta thought upon all these things, and they seemed to swell up within her until she felt ill. She rushed from her tent into the night and was sick.
And her sickness continued for the next few days - nay, for the next few weeks. It was not long before she understood the nature of her sudden illness.
'We are not meant for happiness,' she said to Noro, as she struggled to find a way to tell her husband that she was with child.
Noro sniffed, 'You have never spoken a truer word, Giretta.'
She did not think that he would be entirely unhappy about her news. But a child was supposed to be the bodily manifestation of its parents' affection. 'What manner of dark soul shall this child become?' she asked herself silently. The child would at the very least be the embodiment of her connection to Noro. Among the Enthedu it was not considered proper to abandon one's spouse, save for the most egregious of offenses. And Giretta would not go against her people. But the child growing in her womb made the chains that bound her to her husband all the more unbreakable. And if the connection to a man she didn't love was painful, she began to fear that the severance from the man she now knew to be her true love would be fatal.
Amro
Nearly four months had passed since the destruction of Thedval, and Amro found that he could no longer find any pleasure in war. He had never been a bloodthirsty man, but protecting his brother, protecting Ele and protecting Dalele drove him to fight. He found pleasure in protecting his kin, and so he excelled in every art of war, from the making and forging of blades to the breaking and forging of alliances. He had been caught up in the fate of Lord Pelas and Lord Agonas, and he had become a mighty lord among the elves. His name was revered in every land, and even among the mortals. He was known for his wisdom and his strength, his skill and his fairness. But yet he felt every day as though his body was a hollow shell. There was no sense to it. His brother was long since grown and his kin had many protectors now. And the kingdoms of Bel Albor were all so corrupted and sick with power-lust that he could not decide which was the wickedest of the three.
How many millions had perished in senseless wars between men too self ennobled to risk their own lives for the sake of their ambitions.
Amro did not altogether forsake war after the taking of Thedval. He did what any other would have done - he looted the valley and took all of its wealth and plunder across the Thedul into Ilvas. The flight of the Enthedu drew the attention of Alwan's guardians, and the response of Maru was quick and deadly, making it impossible for any more men or elves of Ilvas to cross the Thedul. This was not something that any man could have stopped, for in that region the whole might of Alwan could be sent against them. The people of Lushlin, at that same time, pushed hard against Agonas, and to the dark son of Parganas' great shock, he was pushed out of that land, and forced to flee into the east. Maru and the other high elves crossed the Thedul and, with Daruvis at the head of their army, they reclaimed the east bank of Thedul, from Thedval to the Lake. But it was not until the end of the winter that the kingdom of Ilvas was truly broken.
Goblins descended from the Far North in numbers surpassing any force that had been gathered of their kind since the day the Dragon waged his wars against the dwarves of Kharku. They plundered and ravaged Ilvas, leaving everything that was not walled with stone in smolders. When Daruvis marched east to lay siege to Ilvas itself, however, the goblins fled at his coming, and vanished again from Bel Albor. If my reader is well-acquainted with what has been related in the Wars of Weldera, they shall easily perceive the cause of this inexplicable turn of events.
Soon after he lost his pleasure in battle, Amro seemed to lose even his abilities therein. He slew men only in defense of his own life, and sought not any conflict. He fell back where he might at other times have pushed forward. He spared his enemies; he made no ambushes. He soon found himself among the other elves of Ilvas, besieged in the old castle where Pelas first ruled as lord.
Abandoned by Sunlan, surrounded by Alwan and with the memory of the goblin army fresh in his mind, Lord Dalta surrendered his kingdom, and in a day the whole region from the Esse River to Mount Vitiai fell under Lord Pelas' dominion.
Lord Dalta was summoned to Alwan to bend knee and to offer an apology for all the blood that had been slain. In truth the dead men that lay in Alwan and in Ilvas were a trifle to Pelas - the true insult to his power was the mere fact that the elf had stood against him. It was said that his apology was as false as it was dramatic, and that Lord Pelas could not tell the difference, for he had become so filled with pride that he could not imagine but that the elf meant every word of his long, tear filled repentance. One by one were the elves of Ilvas sent to Alwan to pledge their allegiance anew to the son of Lady Aedanla. At last Amro and his brother received a summons, but they both refused, Ghastin because he would not bow to Pelas, and Amro because he would no longer bow to anyone. When this was reported to Lord Pelas he sent Daruvis to Ilvas with sixty of his swiftest riders. Pelas had chosen Daruvis for this mission because he more than any other elf in Alwan had understood the mighty smith. Falruvis had not forgotten the service rendered him by Amro while he had captained the Dadiiron off the coast of Dominas, and his son was raised in the shadow of Amro's greatness. Daruvis alone was permitted to learn Amro's methods of forging, and it was said that his skill was surpassed only by Amro himself. The high elves reasoned that if any man could convince Amro to do what must be done in order to appease Lord Pelas, it would be Daruvis.
But it was not to be.
Amro sat alone in the throne room of Ilvas, on the very seat where first Pelas and later Dalta had ruled. He ruled nothing, however, not even himself it seemed. He was beginning to think that he had misunderstood the words he heard so long ago from the three spirits that rule over mankind. He had never spoken of that night to any man, though the memory of those ancient beings entered into his thoughts and dreams frequently. Of late they seemed to press upon him at every moment, and the voices echoed in his mind as if they were heard anew. He had forgotten so much.
He laughed to himself to think that all of this had come about because some fool mortal child fought with a dulled blade. He had seen many men fight and die to save those he loved. That had long been his own motivation, and even when he fought and killed those who were, properly speaking, innocent, he had the assurance that they would do as he did if they were in his place - for he was only doing what he must do to save the lives of his kin. But this child fought as fervently to save the lives of his enemies.
These thoughts were interrupted as Cheru and Oblis barged into the throne room one after the other, garbed in their finest clothing.
Amro's heart sunk; his hatred for them was great, but he could now feel nothing but sorrow for them. He did not pity them, properly speaking, but he was embarrassed for them, as though they were not merely fools, but as if they were some uncomely part of his own body. That thought disgusted him, but he could not shake it away from his mind with any amount of thought or reasoning.
Now was the moment when he must choose between glory and shame. He might have all that he had hitherto enjoyed; with just a bowed knee to Lord Pelas he would acquire for himself great power and authority. But if he refused, he knew he would not live until morning.
Daruvis was coming; he had been informed of this the night before. But Cheru and
Oblis had come first, and were ushered into the fortress without question as the emissaries of Lord Pelas. There they now stood, approaching Amro with the hatred and envy plain upon their faces. Amro rose to greet them. 'Hail friends,' he said, his voice flat and toneless. 'And I call you friends in truth. I had not heard that you had been sent here? Maru will be pleased, when he hears of your coming.'
He said this because he was certain that Maru had not yet been informed.
'Come with us,' Cheru said, the malice plain in his voice, 'friend,' he added.
Oblis just chuckled.
The three elves made their way slowly toward the great oak doors. But just as Amro started to push them open the servants of Pelas drew their blades and rushed upon him. It took them just long enough to reach him that they would forever know that, had he wanted to, Amro could have slain them both. Their swords pierced him through the back and he fell with a grunt to the ground, his body pushing the door open by its weight. He struggled for a moment, trying to lift himself from the carpet, but his life passed from him and he lay still, blood pouring from his wounds.
The fools hurriedly ran in front of him and stood as though they had attacked him straight on, and Cheru quickly drew Amro's sword from the dead elf's side and laid it near the mighty smith's hand as though he had drawn it against them.
Oblis chuckled as the two of them stood over Amro.
The Emptying of Ilvas
Ghastin stood watch over the northern walls of Ilvas, peering out into the woods for any sign that the goblins had returned. It was a task better left to the patrols of guards Dalta had assigned to the task, but Maru, for one reason or another, insisted that it was not necessary. It was a lonely task, and for that reason Ghastin elected to take it up himself. From there he could stare far off into lands uninhabited by elves and men, where only goblins and wolves dwelt. There was one great grey wolf that had come some days ago and by itself brought down a large stag. He had returned now for two days to finish off the carcass, bringing his pack with him. Ghastin just sat on the edge of the wall and watched them for hours as they tore pieces of flesh from the stag's body, leaving in the end nothing but a pile of rotting bones. The great wolf paused from its feasting for a moment and seemed to look right at Ghastin. A chill filled him, and he felt as if the beast had entered into him by the very light of its eyes.
He envied the beast. Men were predators as much as any brute, but there was a nobility about wolves that could not be rivaled by men, who hid their viciousness under forms and traditions.
'Lord Ghastin,' a young man said, arriving on the wall panting with exhaustion.
'I was told that Cheru and Oblis had arrived,' the youth said. 'I was told to tell you at once.' The young man could not know the meaning of this news, but nevertheless reported it with all the gravity it deserved.
'Who sent you?' Ghastin asked, his voice sharp with concern.
'Lord Amro himself,' he answered.
'Does Maru know of this?' Ghastin asked, already moving quickly toward the entrance of the fortress.
'He is in the city among the warriors today; but messengers have been sent to him,' the young man said, licking his lips.
'See to it that the lady Dalele is forewarned,' Ghastin said, adjusting his sword. He was as fearful for his brother as he was eager to shed the blood of those two bungling fools. They had not been sent by Lord Pelas; of that he was certain. Amro was too important to the success of Alwan, and Pelas would not permit him to be harmed for any reason. And Pelas knew at least enough to know better than to send those two to bring Amro to Alwan.
His quick steps turned into a full run when he came to the long, straight corridors of the inner fortress. He rounded a corner just in time to see the doors of the throne room open and Amro fall out upon the ground. Amro struggled for a moment and their eyes met. His eyes held neither surprise or sorrow; he fell to the ground and lay still.
The moment Ghastin spent standing and watching this horror felt longer and more wearisome to him than any of the long ages he had lived. He inhaled; it felt to him as if it were his first breath after a thousand years, and it seemed to fill his body with fire. So concerned with creating the appearance of a struggle were the fool servants of Pelas that they did not hear Ghastin draw his sword. They were alerted to his presence, however, when the youth rushed up behind him and said in a panic, 'The Lady Dalele is not in her apartments!'
Thuruvis, Ghastin knew, had gone with Dalta to Alwan, to make peace with Pelas for the sake of Dalele - for Pelas would remember Dalele's service to him kindly.
Cheru and Oblis turned white at the sight of Ghastin's approach. They stared upon him as if he had the face of Death himself, and they quaked as they struggled to remember the rest of their plot.
'D-Dalele!' Cheru shouted in a fright. 'She is under our power, Ghastin. One word and she will perish!'
'Touch her and Lord Pelas will never forgive you,' Ghastin answered sharply.
'Pelas forgives what pleases him,' they answered. 'And he chooses according to those who demonstrate the greater loyalty.'
This much was true, at least. Their talent for groveling would not be easy for Pelas to replace, and in the end Ghastin did not think that he would punish them too severely. Amro had no great love for Pelas, and their account would sound very credible to his ears. Though everything within him burned to paint his sword red with their blood, he knew that Amro would not forsake Dalia to their power. 'Release her, and I will spare your lives - for a time,' Ghastin said.
'For a time,' Cheru laughed. 'I should have killed you when you were a suckling,' he taunted, walking forward and taking Ghastin's sword. He summoned guards to his side and ordered him bound and imprisoned. Their conflict had drawn too much attention, and Maru would not forgive them if they slew Ghastin in front of so many witnesses. They could claim whatever they wished regarding Amro, but they could not contradict the experience of so many eyes should they dare to harm Ghastin. 'Put him in the dungeons!' Oblis shouted, happy for once to have thought of a command to issue before Cheru.
As Fate would have it they did not need to give any answer to Maru for what took place there. A message was sent to the 'lords of Ilvas' that the army of Sunlan was on the march, and a great host would soon fall upon Ilvas from across the Esse River. Agonas, apparently, had not entirely forsaken that land.
Maru was already marching with a great host to sure up the defenses of Alwan along the western banks of the Esse River. They did not have the strength to hold Ilvas, however.
Thus the city and the fortress were emptied, and the warriors sent elsewhere.
Word of Amro's death was spread abroad, and the report said that he opposed Lord Pelas' summons and was slain by Cheru the mighty.
Dalia and her kin, along with most of the other high elves, never believed this report. They did not doubt, however, the report that Ghastin also had been slain - or murdered as they saw it. With Pelas as the highest judge in the land, however, there was no hope for justice or truth to emerge.
Thus Ghastin found himself peering out of an iron-barred window upon an empty forest, with no sound but the gentle sounds of the night surrounding him. He was utterly alone, imprisoned within a forsaken fortress. In the distance, however, he could hear the sound of wolves howling. He shut his eyes and let himself be filled with that sound - for it sounded to him like the sound of his own heart mourning the loss of his brother.