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Category: Fantasy
Description: The evil Lord Dan-Tor has at last been driven out of Fyorlund and retreated to Narsindal, the realm of his dread master Sumeral. But Hawklan and his allies have won no more than a breathing space, for Dan-Tor is gathering his forces for a massive onslaught on all the free lands. An alliance of the free peoples must be forged, even those of peaceful Orthlund, to stand against Sumeral's dark battalions. The dwellers in the air and the mysterious inhabitants of the lands beneath the mountains must also play their part. A brave alliance; yet so great are Sumeral's forces that it can do no more than stave off the hour of defeat a little while. For Hawklan and the raven, Gavor, the road ahead is lonely and unknowable, for they must confront Sumeral himself, and in so doing discover, at last, what secret lies buried so deep in Hawklan's soul.
eBook Publisher: Mushroom eBooks, 1990 United Kingdom
Mushroom eBookstore Release Date: December 2002

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [657 KB], ePub (EPUB) [612 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [650 KB], Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [3.1 MB], Palm Doc (PDB) [686 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [717 KB], Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [538 KB], hiebook (KML) [1.4 MB], Sony Reader (LRF) [688 KB], iSilo (PDB) [556 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [695 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [742 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [904 KB]
Words: 202000
Reading time: 577-808 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Startled, Jaldaric spun round as the rider appeared suddenly out of the trees and galloped to his side. His right hand began moving reflexively towards his sword, but a cautionary hiss from Tel-Mindor stopped it. Abruptly, a second rider appeared on the other side of the road and moved to flank Arinndier.

Tel-Mindor looked behind. Three more riders were following. Despite himself, his concern showed briefly on his face. Not because the five men seemed to offer any immediate menace, though they were armed, but because he had not seen them, and that indicated both wilful concealment and no small skill on their part. However, his Goraidin nature did not allow the concern to persist. Instead he began to feel a little easier; the actual appearance of the men confirmed the unease he had felt growing for some time.

'Hello,' said the first new arrival to Jaldaric, his face unexpectedly friendly. 'I'm sorry I startled you. We've been following you since you came out of the mountains, but your friend here,' – he nodded towards Tel-Mindor – 'was on the point of spotting us, so I thought it would save problems if we approached you directly.'

His manner was pleasant enough but, still unsettled by the man's abrupt arrival, Jaldaric's reply was harsher than he had intended.

'Following?' he said. 'Do the Orthlundyn always follow visitors to their country?'

'No, no,' the man replied with a smile. 'You're the first.' His smile turned into a laugh. 'In fact you're the only people who've come out of Fyorlund since we started border duty. It was good practice for us.' He extended his hand. 'My name's Fyndal, and this is my brother Isvyndal.'

Jaldaric's natural courtesy made him take the hand, though part of him remembered Aelang, and was alert for a sudden attack. 'This is the Lord Arinndier, the Rede Berryn and his aide Tel-Mindor,' he said, indicating his three companions. 'I'm Jaldaric, son of the Lord Eldric.'

This time it was Fyndal who started. 'Jaldaric,' he echoed, his eyes widening. Then, as if uncertain how to phrase the question, 'Jaldaric who came with Dan-Tor and kidnapped Tirilen?'

Jaldaric's face coloured at the reminder of his previous visit to Orthlund. 'Yes,' he said awkwardly, looking down at his hands briefly. 'To my shame.'

'And was taken by Mandrocs?' Fyndal continued. Jaldaric looked puzzled, but nodded.

Fyndal reined his horse to a halt, as if he needed a moment's stillness to assimilate this information. His brother too seemed to be affected.

The three riders behind them also stopped.

Then Fyndal clicked his horse forward again. 'Why have you returned?' he asked, his manner still uncertain.

'You not only follow, you interrogate,' Jaldaric began, but Arinndier leaned forward and interrupted him.

'We're representatives of the Geadrol,' he said. 'We've important news for all the Orthlundyn, and Isloman told us that we should seek out his brother Loman and the Memsa Gulda at Anderras Darion.'

Again Fyndal showed surprise. 'You've spoken to Isloman?' he said. 'Where is he? Was Hawklan with him?'

He gestured to the following riders, who spurred forward to join the group. Jaldaric and the others exchanged glances. 'Who taught you the High Guards' hand language, Fyndal?' Jaldaric asked.

'Loman,' Fyndal answered. 'He taught it to all of us.'

'Us?' queried Arinndier.

'The Helyadin,' Fyndal replied.

All Fyndal's answers were uttered straightforwardly and in the manner of someone stating the obvious. Arinndier opened his mouth to ask for an explanation, but Fyndal repeated his inquiry.

'When did you see Hawklan and Isloman?' he said, concern beginning to show through his affability. 'Where are they? Are they safe?'

Arinndier shook his head. 'We don't know where they are,' he said, then pausing thoughtfully he added, 'They left Fyorlund some time ago with two of our men to return to Anderras Darion. I'd hoped they'd be in Orthlund by now.'

Copyright © 1990, Roger Taylor.