Chapter Fifteen: Sailing to Shanaar
Tranith Argan: Book 2
The pomp of coronation day is over, now comes the hard work of planning a battle.
A week after the coronation, the invasion plans were complete. Felanar met with the captain of the Scouts and heard from him that earlier reports were indeed correct: the people of Shanaar were in a terrible state. There was no sign of large armies at the ready, or of ships in the ports. Evidently the attack on Argan had been a desperate, final attempt to win before internal forces collapsed upon the enemy. With the armies of elves and dwarves fighting alongside the armies of Argan, Shanaar should be overcome.
Heartened by this confirmation, Felanar met with all of the captains of Argan, along with Ravesfel, Llarand and Gram. Plans of war were drawn up, as maps of Shanaar were consulted to find the best line of invasion. Some of the Argan troops were allocated to the available ships, while others would remain behind to defend the city.
The night before the forces were to depart, Felanar went to Kara’s room in the palace, where he found her reading by candlelight. She looked up as her brother entered the room, but did not smile as she usually did at him. She looked worried.
“Good evening, Kara. Sorry to interrupt,” Felanar said quietly.
“No, it’s all right,” she said. “I’m glad to have a chance to speak with you again. I thought your meeting with Ravesfel would never end tonight.”
“We had much to discuss, for I will not have his guidance on this journey. I will have neither Ravesfel, nor Llarand, nor Dalonír . . . nor you. All my counselors will be occupied elsewhere.”
“I could still accompany you, Felanar, as I originally requested.”
“And I would wish for your company, and sword. We’ve discussed this, however, and you know the reason you must stay behind. I believe Anarth to be too trusting of Canar’s counsel, and I’m not sure Canar should be trusted. I need you to stay and defend the throne from intrigue. If I left the throne to Anarth and Canar, there is no telling what they might do in my absence. Ravesfel counsels against it, and I agree. You, Kara, are the person I trust the most. Your instincts seem always to be on target. I trust you with the throne.”
“If my instincts are to be trusted,” Kara said, “why are you going on this invasion? Have I not said that there is more treachery at work than exist within these walls?”
“We’ve talked about this before,” Felanar responded with a sigh, “and I’ve explained my reasoning. I have chosen the middle path, and hope to carry it out well with the help of our allies.”
“I fear for you,” said Kara, “for I know it will not be as simple as the scouts seem to think. I dreamed about you last night, and it was a horrible dream. I saw you surrounded by the enemy, cut off from your army, betrayed by your own friends. I fear for your safety.”
“It was just a dream,” Felanar said soothingly.
“Like your dream about the dragon?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Felanar was stopped cold by this response. He and Kara had long talked about the dreams he had as a child, and even into adulthood. The dream she spoke about now, the one he had shortly after first meeting Ravesfel and Bren, had seemed to come true that day on the lake when he faced the dragon. It was a disquieting thought.
“That dream didn’t fully come true, though,” he said finally. “Ravesfel and Bren weren’t on the shore when that happened. Perhaps it was a vague application, but one of chance, not fate. It was many years later, after all, that the dragon attacked. May your dream take as long to come true.”
“Even so,” said Kara quietly, “take care with your affairs. Know who is around you in battle. Trust the elves above all. Have Narón, or Dérevel, by your side. I might even trust the dwarves above men, for they seem to be without deceit and speak forthrightly, as I have come to know in the last month.”
“I will do so, Kara, not just to please you, but because it is a good idea. I will feel safer having strong elf and stout dwarf by my side. So you see, I will be fine. Do not worry. Indeed, I am the one who is to worry, for I leave you alone with treachery all around. No elf or dwarf will protect you on the throne.”
“Ah, but I will have Ravesfel to guide me,” she said. “Alessa, too, is to return soon. She will be back by week’s end from her journey to the golden lakes. She promised to stop at Tranith Argan again before her return to Elaria. So you see, I will have an elf to protect me!”
“The best elf,” Felanar laughed, “and one I would have by my side, if I could.”
“At all times, I would say,” said Kara with a smile.
“What do you mean?”
“Just that. You would have her by your side in all your doings, not just battle. Or I have read my brother wrong.”
Felanar blushed. “Is it so obvious?”
“Oh no, you do an admirable job of hiding your feelings, but I am your sister, and I know you well. Your feelings are clear to me. Knowing Alessa, and her ability to see to the soul of a person, I’m certain your feelings are known to her as well.”
“They must be,” Felanar nodded, glad to be able to talk about this subject at last. “I have thought so too, since she knows everything else about me at all times, so how could she not see this? Yet she never says a word about it, or gives any indications of her own feelings.”
“What should she say, Felanar? That the king of men should take as wife a princess of elves? When has such a thing been done? The thought is absurd. Alessa may be enthusiastic for new ideas, but she cannot even get her father's permission to join you in battle, despite your pleadings to the contrary. How would she ever get permission to leave Elaria in such a permanent way?”
“I know, I know,” sighed Felanar, “I have thought this through many a time and it always comes down to the same conclusion: I have set my sights on an unrealistic, unattainable goal. Besides, who am I to say who Alessa would want for herself? I do not compare well to an elf. I know it’s a just a dream. Yet who else will I take as wife? One of the ladies of Argan, self-important and arrogant, yet close-minded about the ways outside of the kingdom? They look down on Low Men, and how could I ever live with that? Or shall I marry a lady of Brindledown, and have a wife gaping at the sights of the big city while being scorned by all the ladies here?”
“Do I not know of this dilemma,” Kara cried, “for do I not also face it? Growing up, I spurned the men of our village, for I cared not for the life of a fisherman’s wife. Now I am thrust to the pinnacle of the kingdom, and am faced with the same problem you have.”
“It is something I will consider upon my return, Kara. This attitude toward Low Men must stop. Ravesfel says that there are no differences, that this was a cultural divide that developed over the centuries. Nevertheless, the people of Argan wish to believe otherwise, and the people of Brindledown are only too willing to cooperate. However, I will set the example as king, and try to lead our people in the right way.”
“I know you will, and I will do my part,” said Kara. “But first, we must get you back safely. I have spoken my mind on the subject, and I know you will act wisely. You are a good leader, Felanar, and you will only get better. You have my confidence, and since you trust my instinct, trust that. Just be careful. The Evil One is not as weak as people want to think. Ravesfel is right in this, I know it. The elves think so too, and I trust their judgment more than that of men.”
“I do too, Kara. Thank you for your reminders, and for caring about me.”
Kara stood up and hugged her brother tightly. Then Felanar opened the door to her room and stepped out. Before the door closed, Kara spoke again.
“By the way, Felanar, I wish to correct one thing you said. You say that Alessa has never given any indications of her feelings toward you. That it not quite true. Maybe it is only my instinct again, or maybe I am more attuned to elven ways, or your own instinct is clouded by your feelings.”
“What do you mean?” asked Felanar intently.
“She loves you,” Kara said quietly as she closed the door. When the door was closed, and Felanar’s footsteps receded down the hall, she said softly to herself, “And so do I. Be careful, brother.”
The next morning, Felanar met with Ravesfel one last time and then set out to meet the soldiers gathered at the main gate of the city. The day was overcast, with low-lying clouds casting a pall over the city. The wind whistled through the streets as Felanar marched down the winding streets that led from gate to gate in the three walls. With him was the captain of the Tranith Argan Warriors. It had been decided that the Argan Defenders would remain at Argan since that was their place. The High Guards would remain at the palace, since that is where they would be needed in case of attack. The Scouts were to rendezvous with the invading army and send word back and forth to Argan. The Warriors would accompany the armies of elves and dwarves.
Besides the forces of Tranith Argan, soldiers had been sent from Tranith Toar and Tranith Heron. Irular Istan held too few defenders these days to be of much use; it was better for them to stay and guard the land of Talenar instead. The Golden Lakes district sent a small contingent of men and these were assigned to join the Argan Warriors. Along with the armies of men were the armies of dwarves and elves. These had been asked to travel directly to Lookout Point at Larmoth Bay where the fleet would be waiting. There the armies would meet and board the ships of men and elf and sail to Shanaar.
Leaving the main city gate behind, Felanar and the captain, Ravis, joined the men camped out by the walls. Thousands of Warriors snapped to attention as their captain and king approached. The sound of armor and sword filled the valley as they moved in unison. Giving the signal, the columns began to march west in precision, led by Felanar and Ravis.
Felanar thought privately how disciplined this army appeared, which he attributed to the leadership of Ravis. In the short time he had come to know this captain, he had been impressed at how much pride he took in his job. Ravis was a middle-aged man, but with young looks. His hair was black and free of grey. The few wrinkles on his face gave him a rugged look. His mouth naturally took on the look of a frown, even as some men appear to be constantly smiling. Yet he was affable enough with Felanar, and usually in a good mood, his appearance notwithstanding. Felanar found him to be good company, and was encouraged to have such a man at his side.
Soon they reached the lip of the mountain bowl, and then started on the long, winding path down the side. It would take them most of the day to reach Lookout Point. They stopped once for a midday meal, but otherwise marched straight through. As the sun began its descent toward the west, the army reached the bay. Felanar looked with pride at the assembled elven and dwarven armies, and realized with a rush of anxiety that all were looking to him to lead.
The Llaraín Findára were present in good number. Twenty legions of knights were ready to join in the invasion. This was fewer than had helped free Tranith Argan, but Llarand had said this would be a more controversial fight. Felanar could well imagine Llafála, Lord of Melanaré, arguing strenuously with Llarand against the necessity of sending elves to invade Shanaar. He doubted that any knights of Melanaré were present today. Still, more than twelve hundred Findára were a welcome sight.
Among the elves, Felanar was pleased to see, was Dérevel, who had walked by his side during the trek toward Tranith Argan little more than a month ago. Felanar greeted him warmly as they watched the troops gradually boarding the waiting ships of the Erenár and Argan.
Also boarding the ships, but much more gingerly than either men or elves, were dwarves, thirty bands of fifteens in all. They did not take to sea travel well, preferring good, solid earth and rock as their terrain. They also were not the closest of allies to the Erenár, and the feeling was mutual. The Erenár had refused to allow dwarves to board their ships, so all dwarves were assigned to ships of Argan.
Felanar announced he would sail on Narón’s ship along with the leaders of the Findára, dwarves and men where they would plan strategy during the voyage. It had been suggested by Ravis that Felanar take an Argan ship, but he knew the elves would not join them if he did so, at least not the Erenár. He explained this to Ravis and said that for the sake of the coalition, he would set the example and join an elven ship.
Felanar found Dérevel among the elves, and arranged to have his legion, of which he was the leader, accompany him aboard Narón’s vessel. Ravis also was to board this ship. Narón, always willing to decide for himself, even allowed Gram and his sons to board his ship, despite the misgivings of some of his crew. Felanar named the captains of the army thusly: Himself for the forces of men, with Ravis under him to carry out the orders. Gram for the dwarves. Narón for the Erenár, though the Erenár had no direct line of command, but operated solely on the single ship level. Dérevel for the knights of the Findára.
With all boarded, the ships now set sail. Ship after ship slipped silently though the water and up the coast of the bay. Out of respect for Felanar’s place, Narón’s ship sailed in the lead, with the ships of Argan close behind. The rest of the Erenár vessels brought up the rear. In addition to allowing men to take the lead, it was felt best to have the Argan ships ahead since they could not sail as quickly as elves. Thus the elves would pace themselves to match and the fleet could remain united.
After seeing to the equipment, and taking a brief rest with refreshment, Felanar met with the leaders of the armies. There had been much discussion about the best way to invade Shanaar. The large island was shaped roughly like a dragon’s head. The main city, Shaabak, where Vélakk dwelt, was located about where the dragon’s eyes would be. One could sail directly toward this eye, landing on the western shore of Shanaar. However, that meant following the corridor of greatest strength for the enemy. Invaders would have to deal with the city of Issk on the coast before climbing the mountains to reach Shaabak.
An alternative route would be to sail directly up Dragonmouth Channel. At the source of the channel, they would find themselves at the base of the Black Mountains. No city was nearby, other than the hilltop town of Rekalis to the south and west. However, for an invading army this was the worst way to travel, for it meant traversing an entire range of mountains before climbing Mount Drwg itself, upon which the city of Shaabak stood. This would be difficult in the best of times, but in late winter it would be impassable.
It had been decided that the best course to follow lay in the northeast. There was another channel, on the eastern side of the island, that cut deep into the land to the northern base of the Black Mountains. From there, an army could circle around to the north and west and come directly toward the north face of Mount Drwg. No cities to deal with, no other mountain ranges to pass, it would be the most direct route to follow. There were, however, two potential problems with this way: The winter weather would be more severe that far north; and the possibility of encountering the waef murch, the great beasts of the northern wastes. Even so, it was felt these risks were acceptable, given the benefits that would result from taking this course.
Felanar explained this to the captains. All saw the wisdom of this way, though Dérevel spoke of the waef murch as being a formidable danger.
“Evil they are, the winter attackers,” he cautioned. “No reasoning do they know, nor do they even acknowledge our speech. To enter their minds is to enter a pit of malevolence. We have strength enough to fight such strong foes, but beware their approach. If you underestimate their strength, much sorrow will be your fortune.”
“Your point is well expressed, Dérevel,” acknowledged Felanar. “We will be on the watch, and we will treat them with great caution.”
They continued discussing plans of order and attack for a while, and then decided to use this time to sleep. Thus they went below decks to bed, leaving only the Erenár crew to sail the ship. The crew denied any need of sleep at this time, as is the way of the elves when necessity is upon them. Felanar, on the other hand, felt in great need of rest and soon fell fast asleep.
That night, Felanar dreamed he was nearly alone on a cold wasteland. He was accompanied by two or three persons, but he later couldn’t remember who they were. The overwhelming feeling he had was of regret. In his dream, he buried his face in his hands and began to cry. As he did so, he felt a presence, a menacing presence crushing him from above until he felt he could not breathe. He woke with a start, and then fell back into a fitful sleep the rest of the night.
Felanar woke to see a cold grey mist hanging over the water. He went up top and was staring over the side at the bluish grey water being dissected by the ship. Looking back, he saw the rest of the fleet fading into the mist and fog. He looked up, but could not make out the sun other than a diffuse light filling the cloudy mist. He wondered how Kara was coping on this overcast day.
Speaking with the crew, he learned that they had made good time through the night. The elves complimented Felanar on the skill of the sailors of Argan. Felanar thanked them, even though he felt they were just being kind. The Argan sailors were actually making excellent time, and their skills were accomplished, but having sailed with the Erenár before he knew they could make much faster time if left to themselves. At this rate, and considering they were going to be sailing far up the eastern coast of Shanaar, there were still two full days of travel left.
After a morning meal shared with the crew, Felanar walked around the deck until he came upon Dolen the dwarf, Gram’s firstborn son. Dolen was staring over the side of the vessel and Felanar noticed his tight grip on the railing. The knuckles on his hairy hands were white. Felanar walked over and stood at the railing next to the dwarf.
“Good morning, Dolen,” said Felanar, hoping to cheer up the uncertain dwarf. “Trying to get the feel of the sea?”
Dolen looked at Felanar with misgiving.
“Not to our liking is that which is not solid, king of men. My father stays below, but determined am I to conquer this fear of water.”
“A wise attitude, good dwarf. Life is often a series of events that must be faced, whether we desire them or not, and it is best to deal with them head on. I hope the motion is not making you feel ill?”
“Nay, a dwarf’s stomach is sturdier than what some water can do to it. Meals I will take even under worse conditions. Nay, it is the idea of it that we find wrong. Of what use is a floor that moves? Of what purpose is a foundation that cannot be mined?”
“Ah, but it can be mined, Dolen, for I was trained to be a fisherman,” Felanar smiled.
Dolen cocked his head at this, and with one hand he stroked his beard. Then realizing what his involuntary movement meant, he quickly gripped the railing with that hand again. Composing his thoughts once more he asked about Felanar’s background.
“We heard some tale about a Low Man becoming king, but how is it that a fisherman became heir to Argan?”
Felanar briefly explained his past, and Ravesfel’s revelation, and his and Kara’s experiences. When he had finished, Dolen whistled softly.
“Born of my father am I, and born to the life of leader. Yet you were born of a fisherman, and now a king must be. Hide your inexperience well, you do.”
Felanar laughed and thanked the dwarf for his kind words.
“If you only knew how many times I feel out of place, Dolen. I have been trained all my life, but never knew just how I would put this training to use. Don’t tell anyone, but there are moments when I freeze in indecision. Ravesfel tells me at such times I must decide anyway, arbitrarily if need be, for people to perceive me as a strong leader.”
“Aye,” Dolen nodded, “such is the way of leaders. If the people see him as weak, then weak he is. You do well to instill confidence, king of men, but I appreciate it that you confided in me. Among our people, this is the greatest trust that can be given. Our word and our secrets are not shared lightly.”
Felanar thought about this for a moment, and then bowed toward the dwarf in return.
“I, in turn, appreciate that you are willing to fight by my side in this conflict. Among my people, there is no greater honor that can be granted, and I will not forget the aid of the dwarves.”
Temporarily forgetting his concerns for the sea, Dolen now bowed low, until his beard almost touched the deck. He then raised himself and fingered the broad, double-sided axe that hung from his thick leather belt.
“When dwarves use this, it brings joy to them, for it means that thrust aside are their enemies. Remember, Vélakk is enemy to us as well. It will be an honor to us to use these axes.”
“I look forward to seeing this for myself,” said Felanar, “for your father makes it sound as if one dwarf can fight with the strength of ten men.”
“Twenty,” said Dolen simply. Felanar searched his face to see if he was joking, or exaggerating, but gradually realized that he was just stating a fact without any feeling behind it.
“Twenty it is, then, good dwarf.” Then remembering Kara’s words to him, he continued, “Will you do me the honor of fighting by my side in battle?”
Dolen bowed again, and said firmly, “So it shall be. Dolen of the dwarves shall stand with the king of men.”
“Felanar,” said the king of men, “just call me Felanar.”
“Felanar,” acknowledged Dolen.
“In the meantime, may you find the sea more to your liking with practice. I grew up on the water, and love the sea.”
“Then will I try to learn this love,” said the dwarf looking at the water uncertainly, “but excuse me if I merely tolerate it for now.”
“Excused you are,” said Felanar, unconsciously falling into the dwarfish speech pattern. He then walked away, leaving Dolen gripping the handrails as tightly as ever.
The wind kicked up as Felanar neared the stern, and he steadied himself for a moment. The sky was still overcast, but it didn’t appear to be bad weather. No storm seemed imminent. Just the dullness of the grey sky blending with the cold, blue-grey water. He heard the waves slosh against the wood of the ship. The rhythmic rocking of the vessel put Felanar into a thoughtful mood and he didn’t notice at first that he had company.
“Far away thou seem,” said Narón as he stood by Felanar’s side. The elf had been tending to the navigation of the ship, but when he saw the king standing off to the side, lost in thought, he walked over to talk to him.
“Hmm . . . yes, Narón,” Felanar replied. “Much to consider these days.” He gave the elf a slight smile.
“Are thy thoughts on the battle?”
“Yes, the battle, and what our enemy will be like. We have, as you heard, many reports that say our enemy is weakened. Others say that the reports are incomplete, or in error. People I trust say one thing, and others I also trust say another. It is hard to know what to think.”
“Aye,” said Narón, “conflicting reports lead to confused plans. May I offer a suggestion?”
“Yes, of course, Narón. I lack experience in such things, and the wisdom of an elf is to be treasured. Please, tell me whatever you think.”
“What I think is of no consequence,” said the elf, “for I know not of thy enemy or his readiness. Strong he may be, or weak, and nothing I can tell thee would prove to be of use. Therefore, my counsel is to take the worst report and make it fact. Let the enemy be strong, and his army at full strength. Assume a trap, and treachery, and make thy plans to defeat such. Wise are the guardians, and full of experience. It does not do to underestimate them. Especially one given to darkness and willing to throw off his constraints.”
Felanar nodded his agreement.
“This is what I have been thinking, too, that the best thing is to prepare as if we are walking into a course that has been laid out for our destruction. I will confer with you and the other captains later today, and we will come up with a plan of battle that takes this into account. Our present plans are too straightforward I am thinking, too trusting of the scout’s reports, and your words reinforce this for me.”
“I say again,” Narón said, “that my words mean nothing, for of a general nature they are. Trust thy scouts, for you are their king and they are thy subjects. I am but an elf.”
“Never say ‘but an elf’, Narón. You have too much wisdom for that.”
“You speak with as much grace as thy sister, Felanar. With you as king, the Erenár may grow to trust men once more.”
“Sometimes,” said Felanar, “I think Kara is part elf, for she amazes me with her wisdom.”
“An unusual woman is she,” said Narón. “A warrior she is and a princess. Well spoken and full of grace, humble in her abilities, yet prideful of your own. Able to feel at ease among High Men and Low, those powerful and those weak. My crew grew to care for her very strongly during our voyage, and even now they talk to me of this daughter of men who acts like an elf. High praise this is among my people!”
“And high praise she would take it, as do I,” said Felanar impressed. “You do us both a great honor, even as you do us a great service with your fleet. I hope I can help repair the damage that has been done between our peoples, Narón. I fear that those set in their ways, such as our regent, or the Findáran Llafáris, will find it a struggle to forget the past. Perhaps it will be us, Kara and myself, who can reach out to you and the Erenár, and Dalonír and Alessa of the Findára. With time, much is possible.”
“That is a saying of my people,” said Narón, “and one more applicable to our long lives. It is the very shortness of thy lifetimes that seems to prevent such wisdom from developing among thy people. Excuse me, Felanar, for that may sound insulting to you.”
“No, no, I understand what you are saying, and I agree. Perhaps it works both ways. Perhaps your very longevity leads to a stagnation of the old ways, and a prevention of the young from taking their respective places of power.”
“Aye, so it is among many of my people. The old ways are best, they think. Afraid to try new ideas, they hide behind the ways of their fathers.”
Felanar laughed. “Now you sound like Alessa!”
Narón smiled. “The daughter of Llarand is one who would learn of the whole world, not just that of the Llaráin. She is popular among my people, which is not common for a Findáran.”
“Another conflict!” sighed Felanar. “We seem to find them everywhere we turn. High Men against Low Men, Findára against Erenár, Erenár against dwarf. What is to become of us against our enemy when we can’t even stand united on our own?”
“I would not say conflict, or against, when speaking of Llaráin. My people do not approve of Findáran ways, but they are our brothers.”
“Oh, I know, Narón. I didn’t mean it that way. Anyway, you don’t seem to disapprove of men.”
“I am not typical, but am like Alessa in that regard,” said Narón.
“I find it refreshing,” said Felanar. “I enjoy your company, much as I enjoy Alessa’s. Tell me, how is our progress? Are we making good time?”
“Tomorrow afternoon should we see land. Until then, relax and let my crew do their jobs. We progress suitably, considering we are dragged back by the ships of men.” He smiled as he said this, and Felanar smiled back as he walked away.
The rest of the voyage was uneventful. That afternoon Felanar met with the captains and a new plan of battle was outlined. This plan adjustment would take into account the possibility of the enemy having more troops at the ready than were thought. Some of the Findáran troops would be held back from the initial assault. Let the enemy grow overconfident and show his hand, and then the elves would come up to reinforce their own position.
A quiet night followed for the fleet, with the dwarves dealing with their unease onboard ships by singing old songs, the elves in meditation on their ships, and men of Argan quietly talking.
The next morning was still somewhat overcast, but the sun could be made out through the mist, and the fleet was more visible behind Felanar. The air was noticeably colder, he thought, as he walked around on deck. He pulled his cloak tightly around himself as he shivered.
Narón came over to the king and pointed over the port side. Felanar strained to see what he was supposed to see and eventually made out the dim outline of shore far in the distance. It was a dark sliver in a sea of grey, almost too distant to be seen.
“Shanaar,” said Narón. “Perhaps the mountains are not visible to thee, but they are just there, the base of the Black Mountains, as you call them.”
“Then we should reach the eastern channel soon,” said Felanar.
“Aye, perhaps in an hour.”
A morning meal was eaten, and then the channel became visible and Felanar got his first look at the land of Shanaar. The sun was shining through the clouds, and the shoreline was clearly visible. Nothing other than land could be seen, for the eastern side of the island was known to be sparsely inhabited. If one sailed up Dragonmouth Channel, along the starboard side would be seen the swamps of southeastern Shanaar. Then a forest would come into view, once green with northern trees, now brown and dying, and called among the people of Argan as the Forest of Death. North of this, the land was rocky until it reached the foothills of the Black Mountains. Beyond that, lay the Northern Waste. All habitable areas of the island lay on the west, and thus Felanar could see nothing beyond the craggy coastline and the mountains in the distance. At the base of one of those mountains, he thought to himself, lay the home of his enemy.
For the next few hours, the fleet sailed up the secondary channel on the northeast coast, as they moved gradually further inland. By the time they reached the end of the channel, the mountains loomed high above them in the middle distance. The elven ships drew up to the beach, but the ships of Argan had to drop anchor further away from shore. By early afternoon, the troops were lined up on the shore, none more thankfully than the dwarves.
The city of Shaabak from this point was ten leagues, a march of a day and a half over flat terrain. Climbing the foothills of the Black Mountains would extend the time, so it would be two or three days before Shaabak came into view. It was decided that their present location was too exposed, and they would march toward the mountains and find a sheltered spot for the night. The Erenár, meanwhile, were to sail back up the channel and to await a signal to return. They did not want to leave the ships anchored on the shore, an easy target for the enemy’s armies.
As equipment was handed out, and the ships were preparing to set sail, Felanar looked around at this strange land. It was desolate, the pebbly beach leading to scruffy fields of dying grass. Tufts of grass were eaten out here and there. Bushes and shrubs were shriveled or dead. The first of the mountains climbed up beyond the nearby barren hills. Much of the peaks lay covered in snow from the winter weather. This gave the peaks a clean look, but at their base was dark and lifeless rock. The scouts had said the land had undergone a period of drought, and Felanar could plainly see the effects. If the farming lands were in as bad a shape, he could well believe the people of Shanaar were desperate. One good aspect of the drought was the lack of snow on all but the highest peaks to impede their travel. In a normal year, their strategic maneuver might well have proven impossible.
The ships sailed off and the troops loaded their gear and began to march inland. They walked over the drought-stricken land, heading west and north. Their feet made rustling sounds as they traveled over the dry grass. Occasionally they would pass a stream that was running down to the sea, but inevitably it was but a shadow of its former self, barely trickling a sickly brown liquid. The water stank, and filled everyone’s nostrils with its foul odor. The elves, in particular, seemed dismayed at the condition the land had fallen into.
The sun was setting as they reached the base of the Black Mountains. A camp was set up for the night in a spot shielded from view by the mountain climbing high above them on one side, and by a stand of trees on the other. Small fires were permitted in deference to the cold, and a meal was consumed. Scouts were positioned around the camp to watch for the enemy, or for the winter creatures coming down from the Northern Waste.
Soon would come the battle, Felanar thought, as he lay on the ground trying to sleep. Soon would come the moment when he directly engaged the enemy, his enemy, the enemy who wanted him dead. Soon he would find out if the scouts were correct, or if the enemy had laid an elaborate trap. With those thoughts in his head, Felanar spent a disquieting night in Shanaar.