The Last Elf of Lanis (25 page)

The sound of stones tumbling under foot made both Yulenth and Solienth whip their spears around to find a dark haired, dark eyed boy of about fifteen pointing his own spear in their direction.

“Get out of my city!” The boy cried with danger and pain in his voice.

“This is my city!” Yulenth cried back with pain and rage, advancing on the boy.

“Now, now,” Solienth tried to calm them. “Let’s be sensible.”

“I am Ronenth, the last of the Glafs,” the boy cried with building fury. “And I will defend my city to the death!”

“I am Yulenth, the last of the Glafs!” Yulenth cried advancing on the boy, filled with rage and tears streaming down his face. “Get out of my city or I will annihilate you!”

Both the boy and Yulenth were dangerously close.

“Will you two shut up!” Solienth slapped Yulenth, and pulled the spear out of the boy’s hands. The three of them regarded each other in the growing darkness of the night.

It seemed an eternity they stared at each other’s faces in painful wonder.

“I thought I was the last,” the boy said, choked with tears. And then the three embraced, crying.

After they had all calmed down, Solienth started a small fire and began to feed the boy, Ronenth, who seemed to have an insatiable appetite. Yulenth looked at the boy’s face in astonishment.

“You know,” he said to Solienth, “He looks just like you at that age.”

“I was thinking the same thing! But, that he looked like you!” Solienth laughed a hearty laugh. “Tell us, Ronenth, of your family and travels.”

“My family,” Ronenth began, “was of a low station. We saw the garonds swarm into our lands before we could get into the city. My mother took me and my brothers away right before the siege. We saw the garonds kill many, many Glafs. My mother and brothers later died of disease or starvation.”

The three stared quietly into the campfire.

“You may have been low of station,” Yulenth said, “but now you stand to inherit all of Glaf, Ronenth.”

Then, the three all told the stories of their lives up to the moment they met.

“There are so many things we must teach you,” Solienth said with a sigh. “Did either of your parents teach you to read or write?”

“I do not know,” Ronenth said, “I do not know what that is.”

Yulenth and Solienth shared a warm look.

“Writing,” Yulenth said, “is the great tradition of the Glafs. We are known all throughout Wealdland as the best writers and readers.” Then Yulenth was quiet. “There once was an impressive library here,” Yulenth said staring up at the blackened remains of his city.

“Let us get some sleep,” Solienth said, “and tomorrow school begins.”

“I am too excited to sleep,” Ronenth said with wonder. “I want school to start now.”

Yulenth scratched a symbol in the ash. “This,” he said, “is the letter for justice.”

Ronenth stared at it. And as Yulenth and Solienth made themselves comfortable for the night and fell quickly to sleep, Ronenth, mesmerized, stayed up late tracing the symbol over and over.

In the morning, Yulenth woke to find Solienth still snoring, but Ronenth was gone.

“Solienth,” Yulenth roused his friend. “Solienth!”

“Hmm?” Solienth opened his tired, old eyes.

“The boy is gone!”

Yulenth and Solienth quickly rose. Solienth rummaged through his gear.

“Ronenth!” Yulenth cried.

“Nothing’s missing,” Solienth said. “He didn’t rob us.”

“Ronenth!” Yulenth cried again, stumbling over burnt rocks, frantically trying to find the boy.

“Here I am!” Ronenth cried. His arms were full of packages and bolts of cloth.

“Look!” Solienth cried. “Glaf cloth!”

“I have tried to save everything of my people that I could,” Ronenth said with pride. Yulenth and Solienth looked through the meager treasures of a once great civilization now rescued by a dark eyed boy.

“And look!” Ronenth held up a leather bound book and flopped it open. “Writing!”

Yulenth scanned the book, then smiled and handed it to Solienth.

“Does it tell of the great adventures of the Glafs?” Ronenth asked.

“It’s a merchant’s list of inventory,” Solienth said with a sad, pained smile.

“Well,” Ronenth said with defensive pride, “we shall have to write all the books over again.”

“Look at this,” Yulenth said to Solienth running his hand over a stream of beautiful, pale blue cloth.

“It’s the color of our flag,” Solienth wistfully said.

“It’s the color of the Great Lake of Ettonne,” Ronenth said touching the cloth with reverence.

“It is why the men of the Northern Kingdom of Man mistakenly called us Ettonnes,” Yulenth ruefully said. “This color.”

Solienth looked out over the great grass plain spreading out before the ruins of Glafemen. It was dotted with herds of aurochs, horses, and a few doderns contentedly grazing.

“Over there,” Solienth gestured, “were hundreds of houses. Over there, a great market. Over there...” Solienth trailed off. Weffie and Bekkie shuffled up to Solienth, their udders full and leaking. Solienth sadly patted Weffie’s muzzle, then noticed some other wild, aurochs curiously grazing closer.

“Here I am,” Solienth said rising, reaching his hands out to the herd of calmly grazing animals, “the great general of cows.” Then he flopped down, put his face in his hands and wept.

Ronenth moved to comfort him, but Yulenth knew his old friend and gently diverted the boy from antagonizing the old general with sympathy.

The rest of the morning Yulenth taught Ronenth writing and reading. The dark haired boy was so eager to learn that Yulenth could barely teach him fast enough.

About midday, Solienth approached.

“I apologize for my selfishness,” Solienth said to Yulenth and Ronenth.

“It’s all right,” Ronenth said, but Yulenth caught him by his shoulder.

“Learn the ways of your people,” he whispered to the dark eyed boy. “So,” Yulenth squared off to Solienth, “you wish us to
accept an apology for your self-
pity, is that it?”

“I don’t need you to accept anything,” Solienth gruffly responded.

“Who do you think you are?” Yulenth challenged.

“I am who I am,” Solienth said with a sneer.

“Well, then,” Yulenth said with a huff.

“Well, then,” Solienth proudly said.

And then, they fell into each other’s arms laughing.

“I don’t understand,” Ronenth said scratching his head.

“A Glaf is strong,” Solienth said. “And can endure pain and abuse.”

“But, most of all” Yulenth said with a twinkle in his eye, “a Glaf must be able to laugh at himself, or he is no Glaf.”

Yulenth threw his arm around Solienth’s shoulders and gave him a hug.

“I was thinking,” Solienth said.

“Another Glaf curse” Yulenth butted in, “always thinking.”

“I was thinking,” Solienth continued, “about that battle at Rion Ta. With the garonds on the horses?”

“Yes,” Yulenth was guessing his thoughts. “The old stories tell of human warriors riding horses to battle.”

“We should be able to do that,” Solienth sniffed with pride.

“And even better than the garonds,” Yulenth also sniffed. “All the histories wrote that great armies of humans once rode upon horses. Why have we given up this very sensible practice?”

The three looked out at the field filled with grazing aurochs, doderns, and horses. Then Yulenth noticed something in the far distance, a column of soldiers.

“Look,” he said pointing.

“Are they man or garond?” Solienth squinted.

“We will defend our capitol to the death!” Ronenth puffed.

“Let’s just see,” Yulenth slowly said. “Yes, yes, they are men. Looks like they fly the colors of the Northern Kingdom, the golden sun on a field of red.”

“Shall we fight them?” Ronenth excitedly asked.

“Let’s talk first,” Solienth said. “But you, Ronenth, stay up in the ruins and fly if fighting starts. No objections.”

Ronenth grumbled, but did as Solienth said. Solienth and Yulenth then calmly waited, loosely holding their spears as the twenty or more soldiers of the Northern Kingdom of Man approached.

A captain hailed them. Solienth waved back.

“Close enough,” Yulenth called. “What do you want?”

“All armies are gathering at Tyny to fight the garonds!” The captain called back.

“You see before you, the last of the Glafs,” Yulenth called. “We may join you, but honestly, I feel no allegiance to you or your cause.”

The captain grimly paused.

“I respect your decision,” the captain called. “All men are needed. But, we will not compel you.” The captain turned to go, then stopped and turned back. “I know it is not for me to apologize for the great wrong done to your people by my people. But please accept the apology only I can personally extend. It was wrong to fight our brothers of the Skyld tribe. All know that now.”

“Yes,” Yulenth called back, “very convenient to say you’re sorry now that we’re all almost gone. Good luck with your battle.” Yulenth then waved the captain away with a dismissive gesture. “Off with you.”

The captain paused, and it seemed as if he were deciding if he should take offense. But then, he seemed to remember the Glaf way, shook his head, and continued marching south, with his men, across the grassy plain.

Solienth looked over at Yulenth as if he was impressed by his bravado. Then they both laughed together. Ronenth scurried down from his perch and pushed the older men, playing and laughing.

The rest of the day Yulenth taught Ronenth at a blistering pace, the young man seemed to be so thirsty for knowledge.

Solienth walked down onto the meadow and, with a rope, tried futilely to catch a horse. Yulenth and Ronenth took breaks occasionally to laugh at Solienth’s clumsy attempts.

Night fell, and Solienth tested Ronenth, as Yulenth prepared the evening meal.

Solienth stopped testing and helped Yulenth.

“That boy is frightening,” Solienth said in a whisper.

“Yes,” Yulenth said. “And now, he is all that is left of Glaf. We must protect him with our very lives.”

“As if he was our son,” Solienth agreed.

The rest of the evening was spent with Yulenth and Solienth telling humorous and heroic stories of Glaf to the utterly rapt audience of Ronenth, until they all fell into a happy and deep sleep.

The next morning, Solienth was the schoolmaster. He taught Ronenth more advanced ideas of economics, trade and government.

Yulenth took the rope and wandered out onto the plain.

“I can do no worse,” he said to himself. Yulenth made no overt attempt to rope a horse, but instead studied each animal carefully with scrutiny.

Late in the morning, Yulenth was surprised to turn and see a white horse with a black mane studying him with intelligence burning in its dark eyes. He pretended to ignore the young stallion and walked away. The horse curiously followed him.

Watching from the corner of his eye, Yulenth picked a clump of tasty grass and offered it to a nearby dodern. The massive animal shuffled away as Yulenth drew near. The horse followed Yulenth trying to see what he was doing.

Yulenth wandered away, keeping one eye on the white horse with the black mane. Yulenth pretended to be bored and offered the clump of sweet grass to an auroch who sniffed at it, but was too nervous to take it. The auroch bobbed its head, wanting the clump of grass Yulenth offered. The white horse crowded closer as if to push the auroch off.

Yulenth started to wander away again, but the white horse pushed Yulenth’s shoulder with his muzzle. Yulenth turned to survey the animal.

“What do you want?” Yulenth slyly asked. Then, he held out the grass for the horse as he stealthily put the rope around the horse’s neck.

“Now we’ll see,” Yulenth nervously muttered to himself. He gently pulled on the rope to lead the white horse to a deep green clump of grass and the horse complied.

“I’ll be bitten by bugs,” Yulenth exclaimed to himself, and patted the horse’s neck. “You need a name, friend.”

The white horse looked at Yulenth with happy eyes.

“Gladsir” Yulenth said, and the horse gleefully tossed his head. “You like that, eh. Okay, Gladsir, let’s see if you like this.”

Yulenth positioned himself carefully, and then hefted himself onto the horse’s back.

About midday, at the ruins, Solienth was explaining to Ronenth the need for nations to build avenues of trade for friendly relations, when Yulenth wildly galloped up on Gladsir.

“Hallo, citizens of Glaf!” Yulenth yelled, then whooped and wheeled the happy, prancing horse out onto the field.

“I’ll never hear the end of this,” Solienth sighed.

Ronenth looked up at Solienth with eager, pleading eyes.

“We might as well join him,” Solienth sighed again.