Free Elfhunter by C. S. Marks

Nelwyn and Galador
renewed their friendship. Nelwyn told of all that had passed since
their departure. She spoke of the slain Ulcas they had found, more
of the creature’s handiwork. They had been killed, but not tortured
or maimed; it seemed that honor was reserved for Elves alone. Then
Nelwyn asked Galador why they had followed so quickly.
    "Rogond was insistent, as I told him of your enemy,
and he feared for you. I believe he has known of this enemy before.
He told me some dreadful tales about it."
    Nelwyn grew agitated. "So he knows it? What
did he tell you? Does he know its nature or how it may be
killed?"
    Galador calmed her. "Hush. The last thing we need to
do is arouse Gaelen. She would probably run back on foot to find
Rogond if she thought he had useful information. No, neither he nor
his people had much insight into the creature that so terrorized
them, but the pattern you described was so similar, he knew it was
either the same creature or its twin brother."
    Nelwyn looked over at her cousin, who was now sitting
preoccupied on the river bank, staring fixedly out to the south and
west, her thoughts clouded by an unshakable melancholy. Gaelen
sensed that something evil had happened in the night, not far from
their encampment. Though she normally did not sleep in the manner
of men, she did sometimes experience a kind of waking dream. Last
night’s had been a bad one. As the moon rose high, Nelwyn had found
her, trembling and pale, eyes wide and staring, mouthing the same
words over and over: "Aontar release me, Aontar take me…" Nelwyn
had grasped her shoulders, shaking her lightly, calling her name.
She came out of her trance-like state slowly, still whispering the
name of Aontar. As Nelwyn looked deep into her cousin’s eyes, they
shared the same feeling—their enemy had killed again. They sat
together in quiet sorrow for whatever poor soul they did not know,
in hope that his spirit would find safe passage to its eternal
home.
    Now Gaelen turned and invited Nelwyn to sit beside
her. The afternoon was waning into twilight, which came so early in
the winter. After that would come the cold darkness, and there was
still no sign of Rogond. They both looked over at Galador, who was
saddling Réalta, preparing to backtrack and find his friend. His
ageless face could not conceal the worry he felt, and Nelwyn didn’t
like it. She wanted to go along, but Réalta could not carry the
three of them, and she didn’t want to leave Gaelen alone. Galador
promised to return as soon as he could and then was gone.
    He had ridden about five anxious miles when he
finally found Rogond. It was alarming to see that there was no pack
horse, and that Eros was now carrying both Rogond and their gear.
Rogond had walked until he could walk no more, then he had
persuaded Eros to carry both himself and the packs, and told him to
follow Réalta. Once mounted, he had slept. He was still asleep when
Galador rode up; not even Réalta’s loud greeting of Eros had
awakened him. Galador jumped down from his horse and ran to Eros,
taking hold of the bridle. The dun was undaunted by his heavy load
and didn’t seem to understand Galador’s distress, but Galador
didn’t know whether Rogond was wounded, sleeping, or dead. The
absence of Cronan was a bad sign.
    He roused his friend with some difficulty; the strain
of the encounter with the Ulcas and the long walk of so many miles
had thoroughly worn him out. But now that he had slept a little,
his mind and his eyes were clear. He was certainly happy to see
Galador and began looking around for Gaelen at once.
    "She is not here. We must ride back a few miles, but
they are both safe. Tomorrow we will cross the river."
    Galador then asked Rogond to tell what had happened.
Where was Cronan? What had taken so long? Rogond told his tale as
they made their way back to the river in the dark, ultimately
falling asleep again as Eros walked with gentle, quiet care, his
feet lighting softly on the hard