Chapter 14: Moradoch Steppe

Malrûn departs shortly after their conversation is concluded, accepting from Eldarien and Rorlain some provisions and wishing them well on their journey to the southeast—to Ristfand—while they wish him the same on his journey westward. They are deeply aware that both directions lead into danger, even unto death, but they do not hesitate, for each man feels stirred to haste by the events of that morning, such that if they could take the wings of eagles to fly to their destinations, they would not hesitate to do so.

The sun is beginning to dip into the western reaches of the sky when Eldarien and Rorlain leave Falstead, and the day is still comfortably warm, with only a slight chill in the air. The woods are quiet, with hardly a whisper of a breeze, and their travel is accompanied by the voices of birds and insects singing and chirping to the coming evening, eventual twilight, and night's rest. By the time they are deep in the forest, veiled on all sides by thick trees and foliage, they both feel a sense of relief which they did not expect, not only to be moving away from the events of that day and the horrors that dwell under the mountain, but also to be hidden from prying eyes. Knowing that they were followed for over a week without realizing it disturbs them both, and they travel more cautiously now, as if their senses have been sharpened and their awareness heightened. Eldarien's long-trained instinct for survival and stealth—after years not only of tutelage in the army of the Empire but also of vivid experience in the heavily-forested lands of Tel-Velfana—returns in full force. He must fight back feelings of anxiety which are rooted in more than the recent encounter with Irilof and his men, tracing their way in the deep feelings of his heart to the countless sleepless nights spent in his military camp fearing an ambush and even more to those times when blood was spilled because of his own miscalculation, or what he perceived to be so.

This is compounded by the fact that he feels deeply responsible for Rorlain, though he knows that Rorlain feels the same way about him. The man looks up to him, trusts him, and follows his lead, and Eldarien is afraid of leading him astray, of making him walk into danger and pain, into loss and death. But he also recognizes that precisely this is what Rorlain wishes: to accompany the man who saved his life and to somehow repay the blood-bond by protecting and saving him in turn. Yet in Rorlain's mind this is not a bond that is paid once and for all—for then the deed would already be done, as Rorlain has saved Eldarien in the barrow of Sera Galaptes. No, this is a bond that surpasses "debt"; it is not a matter of repaying someone to re-establish equality between the two. Rather, what Rorlain seeks and what Eldarien himself feels in his heart of hearts is that now their two lives have been woven together, sewn like two pieces of cloth drawn together with a single thread, and that now they share one destiny, in life and in death, in faith and in valor.

The fact that their care and responsibility for one another are reciprocal comforts Eldarien greatly and eases his anxiety. The bitterness and fear that remain in him because of his failures in the past—and even more his blatant infidelity to the truth which he wished to serve—still sting him and linger like a sticky web. But as he walks in silence with Rorlain at his side, he feels a different emotion—and a different word of the heart—begin to make itself known and felt. He also feels more "held" than he has in many years, held, in all of his weakness and insufficiency, by that voice which he heard in the darkness where all threatened to be lost and yet where all was found again: "Your path has been seen and marked out." He unconsciously reaches for the amulet around his neck, only to remember that it was taken from him and now hangs around the neck of Irilof. Instead he simply presses his hand to his heart, as if to touch that glimmering light, that flickering flame, that was placed inside of him and burns gently and firmly even when he is not aware of it.

† † †

When they come to the edge of Galas Basin a few days later, they find themselves standing on a high plateau and looking out over a wide stretch of land. Even from their vantage point they cand discern that the landscape before them is rugged and uneven, mostly barren though scattered with vegetation of various kinds, and housing small groves or copses of trees in and among the folds of the land.

"The Moradoch Steppe," Eldarien says. "It is a name, however, that covers an extensive area. Before us lies an extended plain with a great diversity of landscape, vegetation, and wildlife, with land flatter in some places and rougher in others. It stretches out before us as far as the eye can see. I have crossed it twice, but only along the main Mardas road. That is a long way from here. The journey that awaits us now is much further than the one we have just taken."

"I have crossed it before as well, but further to the east, nearer to the ocean and to the lands around Lake Ilina. Our path has only begun," Rorlain adds, "though it would be good to have some horses."

"In that, I agree with you."

"Are there any settlements nearby, or even perhaps a farm, where we could hope to purchase a mount or two?"

"The steppe and its surroundings are in fact more widely populated," Eldarien replies, "than the land of the Galapteä, which we have just traversed. I wish that I had a map with me, however, because I do not know the land well enough to say for certain what we will or will not find. If I recall correctly, there is a village—Criseä—nestled at the foot of the mountains to the southwest, not a long way from here. But it will definitely put us significantly off course to go in that direction. There are also a number of settlements in the steppe itself, though we could easily pass them by without knowing unless we find a road and follow it."

"How likely would that be?" Rorlain asks.

"Quite, actually. I would be greatly surprised if we were to somehow miss the roads that weave across this land. We are almost bound to find one running south or southeast, and we can follow it when we find it. In that way, we will be most likely both to pass through a village as well as to find our way directly and safely to Ristfand."

"So the question is: which route is fastest," says Rorlain, "to walk to Criseä and find horses as quickly as possible, though losing time by moving closer toward the mountains rather than further from them, or to head as straight as we can toward Ristfand and hope to find horses at the first settlement we come upon?"

"That is the question," Eldarien sighs, pensively.

After a few moments of silence, Rorlain asks, "What are you thinking?"

"I am conflicted... How much money do you have?"

"My father entrusted to me a good one-hundred menaë," answers Rorlain.

"That is quite a bit. More than enough for two horses," says Eldarien, while Rorlain rummages in his pack to draw out the coins.

"Er...he did, but..."

"What's wrong?"

"I am afraid that they have been—"

"Taken..." Eldarien concludes. "It must have happened when one of the guards searched our packs. Unless, of course, you just misplaced them."

"I suspect not," Rorlain says. "I have not touched them since leaving home, and they were wrapped in a satchel at the bottom of my bag."

"Well, regardless of what transpired, we do not have them," says Eldarien, "though I hope that wherever we find horses we shall be able to convince their owners of the pressing nature of our journey."

"That is true. I only wish it were otherwise."

"As do I. Most men in our land who own horses do not keep them for sport but out of need and utility. Yet at the moment, I cannot see another way."

"So," says Rorlain, hesitantly, "which direction shall we travel?"

"Considering everything...let us strike out into the steppe and head straight for Ristfand, or as straight as I can guess from memory."

† † †

The land gradually descends along a vast escarpment for a number of days until leveling out into a wide expanse of plain stretching to the east and the south, while to the north and west lie the highlands and, beyond them, rising to the meeting of earth and sky, the mountains. The two men move away from the mountains now, more or less straight to the southeast. And despite the overall lay of the land being level, the going is not easy, for the earth is rugged, pock-marked, and with wide rifts of stone or shelves of earth similar to what they had seen in the Aldera Highlands, only larger, steeper, and darker in color. Here the stone is rich in saturation, a dark brown or gray, sometimes almost black, with glistening ore veins of lighter color within it. Throughout the grassy, thickly vegetated surface of the land also lie many earthy cliffs and crags, large and small, in which flourish various bushes and vines and the roots of ancient trees—trees which are now gnarled, hardened, and wrinkled, but which still reach up with a wide span of branch and leaf toward the sky.

Often they find it necessary to deviate from their course simply because the land is gutted with gorges and ravines, and they must follow along them, either at the upper ridge or walking along the base, with walls to their right and their left. Sometimes they must walk for hours in a direction that they do not intend, only to attempt to make up the time by cutting as straight as they can afterwards. All of this slows their course, and they fight discouragement that the already long and slow journey is still further delayed. On the seventh day after leaving Falstead, they are wakened by a heavy rain, with lightning flashing between the thick clouds above them and thunder echoing across the plains. And though the lightning and thunder cease, the rain continues for the entirety of the day, drenching them and slowing their progress still further.

They cannot make a fire that evening, and they also finish the last of their rations—a handful of dry grain each—which they have already consumed as sparingly as they can without harming their health. So it is with dampened spirits that they both seek shelter under the outcropping of a large shelf of stone, changing into the driest clothes that they can find in their wet packs. They crawl under furs to attempt sleep, both because the air is chilly and in order to keep out the wetness that saturates the air and blows upon them like a thick mist, even though they are sheltered from direct rainfall. When they wake in the dim and gray light of morning the next day after a night of restless sleep, it is still raining heavily.

They gather their belongings and depart without breakfast and clamber back up to a high point in the land to get a better view of the path ahead of them. But a dense white mist cloaks the landscape, veiling it almost entirely from sight, and they can see hardly more than thirty yards ahead of them in any direction. "At least it is not especially cold," Rorlain says, trying to encourage himself as much as Eldarien. "Spring rains are better than a winter that never lets go."

Eldarien has long begun to regret the choice he made at the edge of the basin overlooking the plains—the decision to strike out southeast rather than to head back toward the mountains and the village of Criseä. And this regret stirs in him experiences of similar "miscalculation" from the past, similar failures, and as they walk throughout the day, the rain and fog feel to be not only around him, outside of him, but also within his own mind and heart, blinding his vision and oppressing his spirit. As he tries to navigate through the fog within his own being, just as they pick their way among the rocks, grasses, and crags of earth on their way across the plains, Eldarien realizes that he has felt different since encountering the druadach. Since gazing into their eyes of blackness, since hearing their voices of anguish, since confronting again the very proximity of death and the suffocating assault of darkness, he has felt a weight upon his heart.

He tries to name it or to make sense of it, and he cannot. He tries to shake it off, but it clings to him more tightly than coiled rope or an insect burrowing into his flesh or an illness difficult to cure. When he and Rorlain stop to make camp that evening, they are weak and exhausted, having had nothing to eat all day. The rain still falls from the sky, less intense now but steady nonetheless. And this time they do not have the convenience of a natural shelter of land and must make do with their own bedrolls and cloaks, which are already wet from the ceaseless downpour of the last two days.

Eldarien lies curled up against the earth, his head hooded and buried within the bedroll, but for many hours he is unable to sink into sleep. He listens to the soft pitter-patter of the rain against earth, stone, and fabric and the occasional rumble of distant thunder, and he is grateful, too, when he hears the heavy breathing of Rorlain beside him. But it is well after midnight when he too finally sinks into sleep. And then he dreams.

Dark faces without eyes stare at him, and their gaze is so intense that it seems to burrow into his very soul, suffocating him and filling him with dread and despair. He tries to turn away, to divert his own gaze, but he cannot. His eyes are locked with the eyeless-eyes—the empty sockets which nonetheless see—of these wretched beasts. Do they see, or is it only his imagination? Or does something else, someone else, see through them, as if looking with their eyes?

As he struggles to turn away, to flee from this horrifying gaze, Eldarien hears a voice echoing around him—far different from the voice of Hiliana, which had spoken within—but also more oppressive, more assaulting, and harder to resist. It says to him but one word: "Murderer." And in an instant the staring creatures are gone, and Eldarien finds himself falling into blackness, as if into some bottomless abyss under the earth. He flails about, grasping wildly for a handhold, a rope or rock or branch. But there is nothing.

And suddenly the scene shifts, and he stands before a peaceful village at the edge of a forest, watching men, women, and children go about their day. He hears the echo of a blacksmith hammer against metal and the lowing of a cow and the laughter of children and their song and the chattering of women as they walk together to market. He stands, again rooted to the spot and unable to take his eyes away. He stands, unmoving, eyes wide open, while someone steps forward—steps forward from the very spot where he stands—and begins to walk toward the village. Eldarien looks at this person, and it is he himself, wearing a heavy breastplate, pauldrons, and gauntlets, with a shield in one hand and a sword in the other. Along his right temple is a long braid, and along his left, two knots, the marks of a captain.

A moment more, and this captain is joined by a whole company of soldiers, dressed in armor and bearing weapons, and together they pass through the village like a wave of the ocean at high tide or like a destructive storm blowing in without mercy or calculation. It does not take long, a few minutes at most, and the village is stained in blood, quiet and still, a graveyard of unburied dead.

† † †

Eldarien awakes with a start, gasping for air, and finds Rorlain bending over him, the dim light of morning shining behind him. "Are you alright?" Rorlain asks. "A dream, I suppose?"

"Yes..." Eldarien breathes and tries to sit up, but his body rebels, as if paralyzed, throbbing with pain. "I..."

"What is it?"

"I think I might be—" and before he can get the words out, he retches and vomits on the grass, though nothing comes out but a bit of stomach acid and spittle.

"Can you help me up?" he asks, after spitting the bitter taste out of his mouth.

Rorlain crouches down and places his arms under Eldarien's, around his body, and lifts him up into a standing position. He stands, unsteady on his feet, the world reeling about him.

"You feel ill?"

"I don't know if I can walk..."

Rorlain looks around pensively at their surroundings. The rain has lessened now to hardly a drizzle, and patches of blue sky appear between the low-hanging gray clouds. It is shortly after sunrise, but the day is colorless. Eldarien, however, has always loved rain and the rich saturation of color and texture that covers land and leaf and flower whenever the atmosphere itself is bathed in rain, drenched in the perspiration of sky and air. But now he can hardly keep his eyes open, and his head slumps against his chest.

"Should I..." Rorlain begins, hesitantly, "try to find a horse? Or should I carry you? Or we could rest here for the day..."

"I don't know," Eldarien says, "but I need to sit down."

Rorlain resituates Eldarien's bedroll and then helps him back onto it.

"You also need to eat," Rorlain adds. "We both need to eat."

"Perhaps let me rest a bit more," Eldarien replies. "You could hunt in the area throughout the morning. I am sure that there are rabbits or foxes in the plains, and even deer or elk."

"I will do that," says Rorlain, "though I am hesitant to leave you alone—particularly in this state."

"Right now, it seems we don't have a choice."

And so Rorlain departs, leaving his pack behind but with his bow and quiver on his back and his axe in his belt. Eldarien pulls his bedroll over his fevered, aching body again and closes his eyes.

It is after midday when Rorlain returns. Eldarien is awakened by the sound of his movement and opens his eyes to find himself looking up into a clear sky with a figure silhouetted against it. Rorlain crouches down and pulls something from his shoulder—two rabbits tied together at the hind legs. Seeing that Eldarien is looking at him, Rorlain says, "I found something."

"Good..." Eldarien whispers, and his eyes close again.

He awakes again and returns from the blackness to the words, "Can you eat?"

He looks up to find Rorlain's kind face looking down upon him, the sound of a light crackling fire behind him.

"I need to try," he answers. "Help me sit?"

"Of course."

He is able to eat only a few bites before feeling nauseous again, though he is able to hold in the food. "We can try again this evening," he says softly. "Thank you, Rorlain."

"I am glad that I found us something, however small." Rorlain takes the plate of food from Eldarien and glances at the sky, saying, "The rain is gone, at least for the present. Would you like to try to move, or do you need to rest some more?"

Eldarien laughs quietly and replies, "Both..."

"Understood."

After thinking for a bit, Eldarien says, "Since we have food enough for today, let us stay here. Regardless of how I feel, we will set out tomorrow and hope that we come upon a settlement or even just travelers on the road."

"Very well," Rorlain agrees. "Is there anything else that I can do for you at the moment?"

"How are we concerning water?"

"We have plenty. And even if our skins empty, there is a fresh and clear pond filled by the rain not far from here."

"I will drink some more tonight," says Eldarien. "Why don't you rest yourself? We have been pushing ourselves hard now for weeks."

"I don't know if I could sleep," Rorlain replies, "though I would be grateful for some rest." And with this, he sits down on the grass and lays back, staring up at the sky and running his hands through his curly black hair. "How far across the steppe are we, do you know?"

"Not very far. It is a wide expanse."

"I see."

"But it is dotted, as I said, with hamlets and homesteads," Eldarien adds, "so we can have hope of finding some aid soon."

"Let us pray that hope is proved true," sighs Rorlain, closing his eyes and crossing one ankle over the other with his hands behind his head. Eldarien shivers, certain that he has a fever and worried not only for himself but for Rorlain. If he cannot travel tomorrow, what are they to do? Perhaps they could survive like this in the wilderness for a long time. But what about the need to get word to Ristfand as soon as possible? Should he send Rorlain ahead while he himself remains to recover? No, he knows that Rorlain would refuse the offer and would insist instead on carrying Eldarien on his own back.

Only the new day will tell.

† † †

Eldarien feels slightly better upon waking at first light on the following day. He is able to sit on his own but still feels almost too weak to move. The day dawns clear and warm, and Rorlain is already awake, sitting by a fire from which the smell of cooked rabbit emanates.

"Do you think you can eat?" Rorlain asks.

"Yes I do."

"Good. I have warmed the rest of the meat and also found some herbs to season it with. They should be good for the stomach."

"Thank you, Rorlain," Eldarien says, "for staying by my side."

"I wasn't going to leave you here in the wilderness alone!"

"I know...and I mean more than just yesterday."

Rorlain looks at Eldarien silently, his eyes speaking in response, and then turns to the food, placing some meat on a plate and handing it to Eldarien. "Eat lightly," he says. "We don't want you losing your food again."

"Last time there was nothing to lose," says Eldarien.

"True, but this time there is."

Eldarien is able to finish the whole plate of rabbit and herbs and feels much better for it. He also experiences another wave of gratitude that he does not walk alone but has Rorlain at his side. Yet now it is time to see if he can physically walk, despite the weakness that still lingers in his body. Rorlain helps him to his feet and rolls his bedding up afterward.

"Allow me to carry your pack," he says, tying the bedroll to it, lifting it, and swinging it over his shoulders.

"That is a lot to carry," Eldarien says, eyeing his companion. "Two packs, along with your bow, arrows, and axe. Do you think you can do it?"

Rorlain paces in a circle and opens his arms wide, as if to prove the point, saying, "See? I am doing it."

"Indeed," Eldarien sighs, with a subtle smile. "We shall see what you say in a couple hours." Then he pulls his own sword and bow over his shoulders, and, at the moment, their weight is more than adequate.

And so they set off, their faces to the sun, and the grass, shrubs, and flowers glistening in the morning light as the last bit of dew evaporates from blade, leaf, and petal. After they have walked for an hour or so—which Eldarien finds easier than he had feared—the land begins to rise, rocky and rugged, with scattered boulders littered here and there and birch, spruce, and rowan trees interspersed among the stones. The rowan trees are past flowering, and their white flowers have now been replaced by rich bundles of red berries. Rorlain approaches and feels a few berries between his fingers, commenting, "I think they should be ripe enough to eat, though these berries need to be cooked before being consumed."

"Let us gather some, then," Eldarien replies. "Hopefully we will be able to find something to go with them, whether flesh or fruit."

"Or vegetable," Rorlain adds. "There is a great deal of wild foliage in these plains, much of it edible. That is quite fortunate considering our situation."

After gathering some berries, they continue on their journey. They walk until the sun is high in the sky, and Eldarien feels energized by the movement, though his head throbs continuously under the exertion. A little after midday, they climb to the crest of a rise of land and find themselves on a ridge between two stretches of plain, one behind them to the northwest and the other rolling out into the distance before them to the east and the south. And to their deep gratitude, they see what appears to be a thin line of road winding its way through the midst of the plain before them, north to south, hardly more than a brown and gray line among the rich greens and yellows of the vegetation of the steppe.

After resting for a few minutes, they descend the ridge at an angle and then, when the land again becomes more or less level beneath their feet, set their course straight for the road. They reach it in just short of an hour, and after looking along it in both directions, Eldarien remarks, "This is not the Mardas road, but I expect that it will meet up with it further to the south and east. This is a very good sign."

"How many more days of travel until we come to Ristfand?" Rorlain asks.

Eldarien thinks for a moment, trying to calculate their approximate location, and says, "I have never been this far west before, but assuming that the main road is only ten or twenty leagues further east—where I have been—I could say that we are nearly straight north of Ristfand. All that is necessary now is to travel south, southeast, until coming to the main road and to follow it directly south until arriving at our destination."

"How long is that?"

"I don't know how far south we are, so I can't really say. A long time yet. Weeks."

Rorlain sighs and then says, "Less with horses."

"Exactly," Eldarien agrees, "less with horses."