WH-Anthologies 11(S)-Invasion! Read online

  NONE SO BLIND

  by Nathan Long

  IT HAD BEEN a great and terrible day. Great because Alith Anar stood once again on the shores of Naggaroth, his destined home, the true home of his people, the land that was, by right, his to rule, and his blood sang with the joy of it. Great because the handful of Asur and Nagarythe that had landed on the rocky beach below the Blood Cliffs - the first fighting force to reach the Witch King's domain since the beginning of the long war - had this morning won an almost impossible victory against a force four times their size. Terrible because the victory had come at a dreadful cost. Terrible because it seemed that, having come so far, they might, with their target not more than a few hours' march away, sail home again with nothing accomplished.

  Alith Anar stood in the brazier-lit interior of Eltharion's tent listening to the great Swordmaster's stifled moans as an assassin's poison tore at his insides. Eltharion's blind eyes were hidden, as always, by a tied red scarf, but pain showed in every line of his face.

  Belannaer, the venerable Loremaster of Hoeth, one of the greatest sorcerers of Ulthuan, knelt over the fallen hero, whispering spells of strength and healing, as elf field surgeons practised more mundane remedies.

  Alith Anar knew that he and Eltharion should be grateful to Belannaer, for without his timely arrival with two companies of Lothern Sea Guard at his back, the day could have gone very differently indeed. But he could muster no love for the Loremaster, for it was he who was urging retreat when their dagger was but an inch from Malekith's throat.

  'I beg you, Eltharion,' said Belannaer as he finished his incantation, 'return to Ulthuan. You are too stricken to continue.'

  'Then say your spells again,' rasped Eltharion, 'for I will not leave here without facing Malekith, no matter what my strength.'

  'Even knowing you cannot hope to prevail?'

  'If you would aid me instead of badgering me, I might yet do so.'

  Belannaer sighed and stood, looking down at the elf who had once been his student. 'I chased you from Ulthuan to dissuade you from this folly, not to aid you in it. It is too great a risk: the odds too slim, the cost too high. Already you have pushed your luck beyond reason. It amazes me that you have won this far.'

  It amazed Alith Anar too, truth be told. The venture had had the whiff of noble folly about it from the beginning, when Eltharion, refused ships and support by the Phoenix King, had come to ruined Anlec and knelt before the shattered throne of Nagarythe, asking like the humblest supplicant for Alith Anar's help to strike at Malekith in the heart of his land.

  Eltharion had not knelt in vain. Malekith's death was Alith Anar's most treasured dream. With Malekith dead, Naggaroth would shatter into warring shards as the Witch King's generals slaughtered each other for the chance to sit on the barbed throne. How easy then for the true king of Naggaroth to sweep them away with his army of avenging shadows and take his rightful place on the throne. At long last would the war between Ulthuan and Naggaroth be ended, and the two families of the Asur reunited. At long last the vagabond sons of Nagarythe would be able to call some place home, and Alith Anar could allow himself to rest.

  With these visions glittering before his eyes, Alith Anar had granted Eltharion's every boon: a company of Shadow Warriors to act as scouts for Eltharion's Swordmasters, a ship to carry them, and Alith Anar himself to guide them to the Witch King's doorstep.

  They had sailed just before mid-summer. Alith Anar, who had slipped in and out of Naggaroth almost half as many times as the stories said he had, led them the long way around Karond Nar and through the Witch's Knives, a route he had used without detection many times before. From there they had quickly crossed the Sea of Chill, so as to avoid the druchii's shipping lanes, then hugged the east and south coasts of the Sea of Malice all the way to the Blood Cliffs, less than two days' march from Naggarond.

  The first boats had grounded on the shore of the hidden cove a few hours after a moonless midnight, and within an hour all had disembarked: a hundred Hoeth Swordmasters in shining ithilmar mail, a hundred grey-cloaked Nagarythe skirmishers in cloaks like shadows. They had broken their fast on the beach, and then started single file up the narrow, winding path that scaled the sandy cliffs.

  A red dawn had been bleeding over the jagged peaks of the distant Iron Mountains when the last Swordmasters topped the cliff and took their places in the order of march. But there would be no marching, for though Alith Anar could have sworn that never in their journey had they been close enough to any druchii settlement to be observed, glinting spear tips and martial banners had emerged from the blood tinged morning mist, and hovering above them like a piece of night that refused to cede to the dawn, an enormous black dragon and its rider - Malekith.

  It was the strangest battle of Alith Anar's life, for, on both sides, the threat most feared fought the least, while the most hidden threat did the most to turn the tide. On the druchii side, Malekith's dragon, which could have won the battle with one strafing breath, never attacked, only circled above, leaving Eltharion to call in vain for the Witch King to dismount and face him. On the high elves' side, Eltharion slew not one druchii. Although the grim-visaged Har Ganeth Executioners closed with Eltharion's Swordmasters, they gave the blind champion a wide berth. While all around him Swordmasters and Shadow Warriors fought Malekith's Dark Riders and his spear companies, Eltharion stood stymied in an open circle with no one to fight.

  Then Eltharion fell.

  Looking up from killing a Naggarond spear captain, Alith Anar saw the Swordmaster collapsing before a black-clad druchii. Anar roared and charged as the druchii raised his curved blade for the kill, then cut him down as he turned to defend himself. A dagger fell from the assassin's hand. It was crusted with black venom.

  Things looked grim. Eltharion's collapse heartened the dark elves, and they redoubled their attack, pushing the raiders back to the cliff, but just as it seemed the high elves would be driven over the edge, up the winding path from the beach charged Belannaer and two hundred Lothern Sea Guards, trumpets blaring and blue and white uniforms blazing in the sun.

  It was the strangest moment of a strange day, for it was impossible that the Sea Guard were there. It had taken nearly two weeks for Alith Anar's ship to travel from Ulthuan. Any ship following them would have been seen days ago, and Anar's sailors had seen nothing. Yet here they were.

  The Sea Guard punched into the flank of the druchii spears and routed them, then closed with the Executioners. Malekith had had enough. The retreat was sounded and the druchii fell back. Anar shouted to his Shadows to chase them down, but the Sea Guards' trumpet called ''hold ground'' and the charge faltered, allowing the druchii to withdraw. It was then that Alith Anar's relief at Belannaer's timely rescue turned to anger at his untimely interference.

  It was sunset, and his anger had not subsided. It seemed Belannaer had chased them all the way from Ulthuan just to wag his finger at Eltharion!

  'You have forgotten the most basic lessons of the Swordmasters art,' Belannaer was saying. His voice quavered with exhaustion, for the explanation for the miraculous appearance of the Sea Guard was that the Loremaster had used his magic to hide the ship from mortal eyes. He had been chanting a spell of concealment unceasingly since their ship entered the Sea of Chill, and it had enervated him. 'A blow struck in anger as often strikes the attacker. You come here seeking vengeance, not tactical advantage, and you are nearly killed for it.'

  'Do you say killing Malekith would not give Ulthuan an advantage?' snarled Alith Anar. 'It would be the end for the druchii.'

  'If you could accomplish it,' said Belannaer, turning, 'but you cannot. Your presence is known. Your goal is known. Mal
ekith has a thousand troops in Naggarond, and thousands more within five days' march. He rides a dragon that could turn your entire force to ash in one pass if he so wished. I know not why he has failed to strike with all his might, but while you have been given this reprieve, use it! Return to Ulthuan and use this impossible victory to win support for a real invasion. Do not waste the small advantage you have achieved by snatching futilely at the impossible.'

  'No,' croaked Eltharion, struggling to sit up, 'we have achieved nothing.' He levered himself out of the cot, feebly pushing his physicians away. 'We did not sail from Ulthuan to kill a few Executioners, and I will not return until we have won a real advantage.' He glared at Belannaer. 'Anar's Shadows say that Malekith and his troops have fallen back to a watch tower not three hours march from here. Even if Malekith eludes me again, with the Sea Guard bolstering us, we can at least destroy the tower.'

  'The Sea Guard are not yours to command,' said Belannaer, 'and I will not join you in your folly.'

  Eltharion growled. 'Then I will not command them, only ask them.' He turned and lurched unsteadily through the flap of the tent.

  'BROTHERS!' CALLED ELTHARION, his voice hoarse, as he limped into the late afternoon sun and faced the companies of Swordmasters, Sea Guard and Shadow Warriors that were making camp in the field above the cliff. 'I come before you to ask you your will.'

  Belannaer and Alith Anar remained in the shadow of the Swordmaster's tent and watched as the troops stopped their labours and turned to listen.

  'Belannaer has urged me to count today as a victory,' Eltharion continued, 'and to return to Ulthuan with my head high. He says that there is safety behind us, and only death before us. In this he is right. The chances of any of us surviving if we press on are slim indeed.' He coughed and drew a ragged breath, then lifted his blind eyes again. 'But what of your wives and daughters and sons in Ulthuan? Will they be safe if we choose safety? No! They will be dead unless we choose death! If we return home, if we save ourselves and leave him alive, Malekith will come again, as certain as winter, and we will fight this battle on our own shores.' He spread his arms. 'Sons of Nagarythe, do you wish to see your lands laid waste again? Your women at the mercy of your savage cousins? Brothers of Hoeth, do you relish defending fair Saphery from Morathi's hags? Do you wish to see your kin poisoned in mind and spirit? Elves of Lothern, will you wait until the Cursed One again knocks upon the Phoenix Gate before you take up arms against him?'

  A rousing chorus of ''no'' rose from the ranks, and Alith Anar smiled. Who would have thought the dour Swordmaster such a fine speechmaker? Belannaer's knuckles were white on his gilded staff. He looked as if he wanted to hit Eltharion over the head with it.

  'Or will you follow me now! Here!' cried Eltharion, his voice cracking with strain. 'And strike down the Witch King on his very doorstep, where only our lives are at stake?'

  The elf troops thrust their swords and spears in the air and roared their approval, the Sea Guard of Lothern loudest of all.

  Eltharion turned to Belannaer with a crooked smile. 'You may give your orders now, Loremaster.'

  ALITH ANAR SHOULD have been with his skirmishers, starting the attack by setting fire to druchii tents and raining arrows on their occupants as they ran out to escape the flames. But he wanted to see Malekith die, so he had joined Eltharion in the second wave, charging into the burning camp and chopping down unprepared druchii right and left. While the Swordmasters and the Sea Guard pressed their enemies back on all sides, Eltharion and Alith Anar, and a handful of picked Hoethi made directly for Malekith's tent. The only signs that the assassin's poison still flowed through the blind champion's veins were his clenched teeth and an occasional angry hiss.

  Belannaer ran with them, cursing as he fought. Though he had been furious with Eltharion for undermining his authority with the Sea Guard, and had wanted nothing further to do with the raid, in the end he had decided that he could not abandon his troops, even to folly.

  Through the smoke, Alith Anar could hear druchii captains calling to their troops to form up. Horns blew ragged rallies. To his left, two Executioners fought back to back in a ring of Lothern spears. To his right, a druchii general fired a repeating crossbow at a Swordmaster. The angry roar of Malekith's dragon could be heard somewhere ahead of them. Anar cut down a druchii with a spear and leapt his corpse, trying to stay abreast of Eltharion, who moved like a white ghost; a ghost with a killing touch, for wherever he passed, dark elves fell, blood spraying from cuts so swift that Alith Anar never saw when they had been struck.

  At last Eltharion's company saw Malekith's lavish pavilion emerging from a veil of trailing smoke: a tent like a palace, with wings and cupolas, all of violet silk as dark as their owner's heart. Four guards in dragonscale mail protected the entrance, but they were dead by Eltharion's sword before they could call their challenge. Eltharion stepped over their bodies into the brazier-lit vastness of the interior, Belannaer and Alith Anar at his sides.

  The central tent was palatial indeed. Thick carpets hid the ground, tapestries depicting excruciating pleasures hung before the black canvas walls, tables overflowed with food and drink, naked slaves cowered in the shadows and hid behind the curtains that led to the other rooms, and in the centre stood an ebony throne, carved with dragons and harpies. It was empty.

  Eltharion raised his chin, like a wolf sniffing the wind. 'He is not here.' He turned in a circle. 'Coward!' he cried. 'Did I cut you so deeply that you fear to face me again?' He hacked down tapestries and sliced open door curtains. 'Come out, craven! Is this the bravery of the druchii? Is the spirit of the warrior that they hold so...?'

  He stopped and looked up. The thunder of enormous wings filled the air. A powerful downdraft buffeted the tent's silk roof, making it billow and snap. Alith Anar froze, expecting the walls to burst into flames around them. Eltharion didn't seem to care. He raced outside, sword pointing at the sky. 'Coward! Come back and face me!'

  Belannaer and Alith Anar stepped out after him, just in time to see a massive black shape bank around the curve of the stone watchtower, before disappearing into the night. After a moment Eltharion lowered his sword and sheathed it his face cold and still. 'We continue to Naggarond.'

  'NO, MY LORD,' said Belannaer, a short while later, 'you must not persist in this folly.'

  The druchii had been routed, retreating in disarray towards Naggarond, leaving their dead behind. The Shadow Warriors busied themselves smashing the tower's signal lamps and digging out the earth under the east wall so that it would topple like a tree. The rest of the Ulthuan force were seeing to their dead and wounded and, much to Belannaer's dismay, preparing to march again.

  'Can you not see that this is some ruse of Malekith's?' persisted Belannaer as Eltharion stared sightlessly into the night. 'We have won no victories. We have been allowed to succeed. Twice the Witch King might have set his dragon upon us and ended this adventure in an instant, and he did not. Why? Because he wants us to come further in. He has some use for us.'

  'Use me?' scoffed Eltharion. 'Let him try. I am a tool that turns in the hand. We march.'

  'Did you lie then?' asked Belannaer. 'Did you not say you would be satisfied with the destruction of the tower?'

  'I would have, had I killed Malekith. But he ran, so we march.'

  'You may march. I will return to the ships, and this time I will not let you sway me from ordering my troops away. I will play Malekith's game no longer.' He started down the slope towards the Sea Guard who were forming up, their wounded on litters behind them.

  Eltharion's fists clenched. He growled. Alith Anar wasn't sure if from anger or pain. Anar watched Belannaer go with mixed feelings. He hated him for a being naysayer and a nag, and for taking away half their fighting force when they most needed it, but at the same time the old Loremaster was right. The high elves should not have won the two battles they had fought this day. Malekith's dragon could have burned them all to cinders and turned the tide in both. Why had the Witch King stayed hi
s hand? What devious plan was he concocting?

  Belannaer had almost reached the bottom of the slope when Eltharion called after him. 'Loremaster, wait. I have reconsidered.'

  Belannaer turned, a suspicious frown on his brow. 'Reconsidered?'

  'Yes.' Eltharion started down the slope. 'You are right. We are toyed with. We cannot hope to succeed. As much as I wish to kill Malekith, I cannot force him to face me.'

  Belannaer looked relieved. 'You see it at last.'

  Eltharion turned to Alith Anar. 'Instruct your warriors to take the armour, cloaks and helms of the fallen druchii. My Swordmasters will do the same. We will at least have trophies of this brave venture to show those who dare doubt us that we truly made it to this fell shore.'

  Alith Anar tried to hide the disappointment in his voice. 'As you wish, Swordmaster.' Though he knew it was the wiser course, he was crushed. Eltharion's fiery righteousness had made victory seem inevitable. There was nothing his rage couldn't conquer. No wall was high enough, and no army strong enough to stand in his way. To hear the Swordmaster speaking reason was strangely heartbreaking.

  Belannaer took Eltharion's hand. 'Thank you, old friend. I am glad to see that vengeance has not clouded your wisdom after all.'

  'Come away, my lords,' said a dirt-covered shadow captain. 'The tower is about to collapse.'

  THE CLIFFS WERE an hour away and dawn still invisible beneath the thick roof of the forest through which the soldiers of Ulthuan trudged, when Liss, Alith Anar's chief scout, emerged from the shadows and gave her report. All was quiet.

  As she faded away again, Eltharion fell into step beside the King of Shadows. 'We are unobserved, then?'

  'Aye, Swordmaster,' said Alith Anar. 'No scouts observe us. No harpies circle above us. The way ahead is clear.'

  'Good.' Eltharion nodded curtly. 'Then call a halt. We have come far enough.'

  'Far enough for what?' asked Belannaer, turning. Eltharion paid him no mind. 'Alith Anar, instruct your Shadows to don the druchii cloaks and armour. My Swordmasters will do the same. We will wait here until nightfall, and then approach Naggarond as a returning company of druchii.'