The Grey Pearl (Of Caladuin: Volume Two)

14

They decided to hold from landing until star-set. The voyage to Pîn Balar usually took an eriel and a half but they had had the good fortune of a strong south-westerly from Ethirost. A thin layer of cloud veiled the Rossiaur but it wasn't as dark as Caladuin would've liked. Tathariel steered the hired skiff along the southern coast of the island.

"Is there a landing nearby?" Caladuin called out above the wind. He had barely controlled the constant nausea he'd felt since leaving the harbour.

"I know a small cove up ahead. The shore there is rocky and less watched."

They furled the sail just before the cove came into sight and rowed as close to the cliffs as they dared so as not to be seen from the island.

The boat rocked and listed as they reached the shallows. Caladuin heaved on his oar, glancing over his shoulder as they neared the shore. A sudden swell lifted the boat and they dropped into emptiness. There was a loud thud as the keel hit some hidden rock. Tathariel's oar jumped from its clasp and Caladuin almost fell from his seat. Water started welling up through a splintered hole in the hull. They both jumped up and bound over the gunwales into the cool surf. The boat was still being tossed around and they struggled to drag it over the uneven rocks and onto the beach.

"I always leave my boat over there," Tathariel said, indicating a small pine tree that had stubbornly taken root in the cliff face. They dragged it across the uneven rocks towards the hiding place.

After sharing a drink from Caladuin's waterskin they took their weapons from the boat and covered it with a large branch and other pieces of driftwood they found nearby. Now it was invisible from the sea as well as the land.

Tathariel led the way to a stepped path and they climbed to the scrubby clifftop. From here, the land rolled northward before rising, in the far distance, to a steep hill, black against the star-sprayed sky.

"That is our objective," Tathariel said. "It is where Amlug has his lair, where the Pearls are being taken."

They walked away from the clifftop among coarse aeglos bushes towards a small pine wood. The sea wind had calmed to a soft breeze that whispered in Caladuin's ears as they walked. For some reason that he would never know, he was compelled to confide in Tathariel.

"He was my second."

"Mm?"

"Roscereb. Only my second."

Tathariel stopped and gave him a look of compassion that he had not seen from her before. "It is always difficult. But these Dolendrim. They are not like us, Caladuin. They are wild savages. Thieves and murderers."

"My first was not a Dark-elf," he snapped. "I killed one of Eöl's kin in Nan Elmoth. I was defending myself."

"Oh."

"The reason I was sent to the Falas was – it was either that or banishment."

"From Menegroth?"

"From Beleriand." He had not spoken of this shadow in his past to anyone before and he marvelled at this urge to tell Tathariel. He felt her soft touch on his elbow.

She blinked, seemed reticent to speak. "I – I have not told you the reason I was appointed to Ethirost." She paused and Caladuin gave her time to form her thoughts into words. "I requested it. I almost begged the King to let me come here. My brother – Heledir - he was killed in Nan-tathren." Her voice began to break. "He was - murdered by one of Amlug's followers. Uglûdh."

"Tathariel, I –"

"I will not rest until he is dead." She blinked away her tears then looked towards the pines. "Skirting the wood will delay us," she said and wiped her cheek. As she turned back to him, he saw a figure emerging from the darkness of the wood: a Dolonel holding a sword. He threw his arm around her and dragged her to the ground. She ended up half on top of him but instead of protesting she whispered in his ear. "What do you see?"

"Three Dolendrim: two archers, one with a sword."

Caladuin craned his neck. They were walking purposefully towards them: there was no doubt that they had been seen.

Tathariel turned her head towards them. "You will have to be quick."

Caladuin nodded and let her roll away. He reached for his bow and pulled two arrows from his quiver. Holding one between his third and little fingers, he nocked the other and sprang up. The archers already had their bows raised and he heard a twang just before a dart hissed past his left ear. At the same time, he let his arrow fly, adjusting his aim for the crosswind. As the first arrow found its target, he twirled the second between his fingers and nocked it. He saw his first target fall as he fired at the other, felt another arrow brush past his quiver. The second archer's arms flailed for a moment before he staggered and stumbled to the ground.

By now Tathariel was on her feet and running towards the surviving Dark-elf, her long-knives drawn. Caladuin ran after her then off to the right to get a better angle on his target. Their blades rang out in the night as Tathariel whipped and whirled at the Dark-elf who was just managing to block each blow. It was not long before Caladuin could see a change in his body language. The Dark-elf managed to get a boot to Tathariel's thigh and used the moment she was off-balance to retreat. He turned and started running for the pine wood, swerving in and out of the aeglos bushes.

Caladuin took his time taking aim, thinking of the Sindar's hate-maddened face in Nan Elmoth, of Roscereb grinning up at him in Lethril's kitchen. He let the arrow fly then shouldered his bow and walked slowly towards Tathariel, his head lowered.