The Horn of Moran

“Why?” Alex asked. “What are the records used for?”

“From time to time we discover something important. I say discover, but it is more like making co

“I don’t understand. What information? Who runs the order? Why was it set up in the first place?”

“I can tell you some things, but not everything,” said Sindar after a moment of thought. “For example, I can tell you that when I return home, I will report on this adventure and the fact that there appear to be more goblins in Norsland than there once were—including the presence of a goblin shaman. The order might decide that they need more information about goblins in Norsland, or they might just let the kingdoms of Norsland know that there are more goblins.”

“I see,” said Alex. “Still, who is in charge? Who decides what information is important? What else does the order of Malgor do?”

“So many questions,” said Sindar. “As for the who and the why, I don’t think I should say. Many people who belong to the order do not know who is in charge, and since you are not a member . . .”

“I’m sorry,” said Alex. “It’s just so interesting. Obviously my father was a member of this order, and he wanted me to trust any members that I might meet.”

“Yes, but I think your father may have overstated his desire. I would not be so quick to trust completely if I were you. You are a wizard after all, and blind trust does not go well with that title.”

“You don’t think I should trust the members of the order?”

“I think you should use your own judgment,” said Sindar. “Now, I think you should take a bath and get ready for the feast. It should be a merry night.”

Sindar said nothing more about the order of Malgor, and Alex didn’t press him for answers. He knew enough for now, and he promised himself that someday he would know more.

The brownies were thrilled that Alex and Sindar were their guests and would squeal and giggle when either of them would thank them for their kindness. Alex tried hard to remember all the brownies’ names, but there were just too many of them, and the brownies all looked very much alike to him. Whenever he would call a brownie by the wrong name, the brownie would think he was making a wonderful joke, and then tell him its correct name. In the end, Alex stopped trying to sort it out.

The days passed swiftly, and the brownies never seemed to grow tired of Alex and Sindar asking them questions or thanking them. Often Alex would conjure up weir lights and send them floating around the village, changing colors from time to time as they went. The brownies seemed to enjoy the lights even more than Halfdan had, and it made Alex happy to hear them laugh in surprise whenever one of the lights changed colors.

After a week in the village, Alex sent Whalen a long message, telling him everything that had happened at the tower and how he and Sindar were now guests in the brownie village. Alex also spent a fair amount of time in his bag, sorting through the treasure he’d recovered from the tower. He was hoping to have the treasure sorted and divided before they started south once more, but that was going to take some work. A few weeks later, Whalen sent a reply to Alex’s message.

Dear Alex,

You have done better than I had hoped. I am impressed with the way you’ve handled things. I never would have thought to change the stone into a breeze. Very clever on your part, I must say.

I do have some ideas about what the shadow is, but it will take some explaining, which I would rather do in person. I hope to meet you on your return to Telous, or perhaps in Alusia. I believe Bregnest, once he is recovered, will insist that you all go with him to complete your adventure by returning the Horn.

I was sorry to hear about Sedric Valenteen, but, as you said, he made his choice. You did what had to be done, so don’t blame yourself for what happened.

Continue to study your books, and feel free to start looking through the upper library, which you now have in your bag. I don’t think you will need to update me quite so often, but feel free to write if you have questions. Also, I think you can judge for yourself when you should and should not use your powers, so don’t let my earlier warnings stop you from doing something you feel needs doing. Of course, don’t use your powers for just anything; use your common sense and you should be fine.

Yours in fellowship, Whalen

P.S. Just a reminder to honor your promise to Tip. I know you would never break your promise on purpose, but you may find it difficult to keep once your friends recover. Perhaps you and Sindar should agree on a story for your friends. You still have time to think of something before they wake up.

Whalen’s letter lifted Alex’s spirits, and that afternoon he started working on a story with Sindar. They decided, after some debate, that the simple truth would work best. No mention of the brownies would be made, but the fact that the two of them had been stuck in the woods would be enough.

“Our adventure climbing down the mountain will be far more interesting,” Sindar commented. “The fact that we spent a few weeks or even months in the woods, with nothing to do but wait, will not attract many questions.”

As the days passed, Alex continued to sort the treasure from the tower and search for the Horn of Moran. Other days, he would look through the large library or visit with the brownies.

Winter continued, and Alex and Sindar both watched the weather for any sign that they could safely move on. Sometimes Alex would wander to the edge of the enchanted woods and look out across the frozen waste, thinking about the future. He appreciated Usel’s warning about not being in the frozen waste when winter came. The snow was almost as deep as Alex was tall, and the wind blew wildly across the open land.

Alex used his time to study and practice his magic, and to just think. He even had time to reread some of his books and learn how to magically mend Halfdan’s cooking pot. It was an odd bit of magic, but after a little practice, Alex was able to make the pot as good as new. He was pleased with his work, and he knew Halfdan would be glad to have his pot back.

“You seem strangely quiet,” said Sindar, one night after another excellent feast with the brownies. “Are you troubled?”

“Not troubled. Just thoughtful.”

“More like a wizard all the time.”

“Or more like an elf,” Alex answered and laughed. “I was just thinking about something—something I’m not likely to find an answer to.”

“And why would you spend time thinking about things that have no answers?”

“Oh, there is an answer, I’m sure of that,” said Alex. “I’m just not likely to find it anytime soon.”

“Then I suppose thinking about it won’t hurt, as long as you are prepared to wait for your answers.”

“I can wait. I believe I am less hotheaded than I once was.”

“I believe that you are,” said Sindar.

It wasn’t until Alex had sorted almost all the treasure from the Tower of the Moon that he found the Horn of Moran. It was about eighteen inches long and perhaps eight or nine inches across at its widest point. It was made of a black material that Alex had never seen before, and the gentle curve made it look like a horn from some enormous animal. True silver bands had been wrapped around either end, and there were loops in the silver where a strap could be attached so the horn could be carried. Alex showed the Horn to Sindar, who was stu

“It’s been carved from a Durnlow horn,” Sindar whispered in awe.

“What’s a Durnlow?” Alex questioned.

“They are a rare and magical creature, something like a giant goat or perhaps more like a ram,” Sindar explained. “Stories say that they are even more magical than dragons, and that to see one means good fortune for the rest of your days. Their horns ca