The Last Elf of Lanis (26 page)

Ronenth let out a whoop and ran to join Yulenth, to see if he could catch a horse of his own.

In the field, Yulenth seemed as one with Gladsir. Ronenth ran back and forth, roughly trying to grab a horse, while Solienth walked up to the red mare he had been chasing all the day before. And, the silly animal simply let him hop up on her back.

“Hmmph,” Solienth grunted to the mare. “Not so coy today, are you?”

Ronenth was out of breath, and it seemed a tan foal wanted to be caught, but couldn’t trust itself. Then, Ronenth heard Solienth shouting something.

He looked up in the direction Solienth was pointing. Yulenth pulled Gladsir to a halt.

On the far edge of the meadow, a platoon of twenty horse garonds charged.

Solienth turned his mare and rode as fast as he could back to the ruins for the spears that had been left behind. Yulenth wheeled Gladsir. Ronenth was caught in the storm of animals beginning to stampede.

“Help!” Ronenth cried.

Yulenth urged Gladsir and the noble animal sprang forward towards Ronenth. Yulenth held out his hand and swung the boy up onto the horse behind him. Then, they sprinted for the ruins.

Solienth looked back, he could see the horse garonds were nearly on Yulenth and Ronenth astride Gladsir. He had no time to reach their spears. He wheeled the red mare and rode back as fast as he could.

The horse garonds were slavering and angry. They swung their clubs and swords in circles over their heads, eager for a chance to kill.

As Solienth rode back, several aurochs turned and charged before him. Solienth suddenly got an idea. He rode back and forth, keeping himself directly behind the stampeding, beasts with their vicious horns.

And just as he hoped, as he guided the beasts into the horse garonds, the aurochs bent their heads and with their long, deadly horns gored the horses and their garond riders.

“Use the aurochs!” Solienth bellowed to Yulenth who had several horse garonds surrounding him.

But, Yulenth saw what had just happened and was ahead of him. He turned Gladsir and slapped a passing bull auroch on the haunch, and the huge animal speared two garonds as it thrashed its mighty head.

Gladsir was magnificent. It was as if he was born to herd aurochs. The horse and Yulenth turned aurochs into the garonds again and again, and the garonds had no defense.

In moments, every garond was dead or mortally wounded.

Yulenth rode up to the ruins.

“Get off and hand me two spears,” Yulenth said to Ronenth.

After he had done as instructed, Ronenth tried to get back on Gladsir.

“You wait here,” Yulenth said to Ronenth, and then galloped away before he could protest.

Yulenth handed a spear to Solienth, and the two of them rode back and forth in the meadow to finish any garond still alive.

All the rest of the afternoon, Yulenth and Solienth spent dragging the garonds and gored horses into a pile and burned them. Ronenth watched from the ruins of Glafemen, holding his body, shaking.

Finally, the mess was cleaned up, and the Glafs prepared dinner in the closing dusk.

“They were tracking those soldiers of the Northern Kingdom,” Solienth said.

“Should we go to Tyny?” Yulenth asked Solienth.

“We probably shouldn’t stay here,” he answered. “And, if a big battle is coming, no place in Wealdland will be safe.”

“I need to be with my wife,” Yulenth said.

“What of the boy?” Solienth mused.

“Look,” Ronenth said, pointing out at the animals of the meadow.

Yulenth and Solienth looked out to see every animal of the meadow flat on the grass, theirs heads down in fear.

“What does it mean?” Ronenth asked.

Yulenth and Solienth had no answer. Then, from the night sky, a screeching came in awful waves. As they looked up, the Wanderer moved quickly in an unnatural way across the heavens.

“What in Yonne’s name is that!” Solienth cried.

“Into the ruins!” Yulenth cried.

The three huddled in fear watching the horrible spectacle from behind huge, blackened granite stones, as Deifol Hroth, from some distant place in the south, moved the Wanderer out of its orbit.

Chapter Sixteen

The Weald

“Switch cloaks with me!” Matclew said. “They’ve seen you in the blue cloak. Maybe I can draw them away.”

Alrhett and Matclew quickly traded cloaks.

“That ramp leads up to the royal palace,” Matclew said, pointing. “There are some stalwart supporters, defying the curfew, waiting for you. Wait until I have drawn them off, before you go.”

“Do not fight them,” Alrhett said. “Just run as fast as you can.”

Matclew nodded and then sprinted away.

“Get her!” A chorus of men cried.

Alrhett turned to see Matclew, in the blue cloak, surrounded by assassins. Their swords plunged into his body again and again.

Alrhett wanted to scream, but her throat was paralyzed with fear. It felt as though her feet wouldn’t move. Then, somehow, she could sense that she was running, but she felt completely numb. Her sense of sound was cushioned and muted. But, her sense of sight and smell became almost too acute.

Down a ramp, she could smell every animal or perfume, which had moved along the path. Every shadow was in sharp definition. She could see the gates of the palace, and several citizens huddled by the entrance.

“Open the doors! Open the doors!” She screamed.

The men rose as if completely befuddled. Then they scrambled to action and opened the massive oak doors. Alrhett could feel the vibrations of the assassins speeding down the wooden ramp right behind her. The men in front of her drew their swords and set themselves.

Alrhett ran through the entrance and could hear, immediately behind her, the clash of sword on sword, the shouts and curses of men fighting and dying. It seemed an eternity as Alrhett waited just inside the gate. Then, a soldier she knew, splattered with blood entered.

“They are all dead, my queen,” he said with exhaustion.

“Bring all the bodies in quickly, and bar the door,” Alrhett said.

Once her instructions were accomplished, messengers were sent to sympathetic households. As they went, the people of Rogar Li seemed to regain their courage, and awoke. Lights were lit, and the citizens began to gather outside the royal palace with riotous murmurs.

Matclew and Drepaw’s bodies were also brought in, with several other assassins they had slain in their attempt to make it to the palace. The outrage of the populace was growing. The assassins were unmasked and Alrhett allowed the citizens to enter and name them, as they filed past.

“Lord Nasinne and two of his vassals!”

“Lord Pidenco, his brother and two of their guards!”

And, many other high officials of Rogar Li were identified as base usurpers who had resorted to murder to further their aims.

An elderly woman entered and fell to her knees. “They should not be
lying
with these!” She cried.

“Who is this?” Alrhett asked.

“She is the mother of Drepaw and Matclew,” a soldier told her.

“Oh, my dear!” Alrhett exclaimed and ran to her side. She held the woman’s face and cried with her. “Please forgive me! Your sons have shown the greatest of love, not only for me, but for all of Rogar Li and the Weald!”

All were silent with respect.

“These two angels,” Alrhett stroked the hair of Matclew and Drepaw, “gave their very lives for the idea of the just rule of law here in the capitol. Honor their names as you would the great kings of old. Remove their bodies. Clean them, and set them aside, for We have dishonored them by allowing them to lie here with these vermin. If every man or woman would be willing to give all they have, as these two, unto their own lives, to see the safety and stability of our government, our peace, and the happiness of every child here in the Weald, then we would have a heaven here on earth.”

Alrhett sat and cried with Matclew and Drepaw’s mother as their bodies were removed with respect to be cleaned and dressed for their deserved honors.

“Tell me your name,” Alrhett asked.

“I am Meybonne,” she said. “And these,” she indicated two pale faced woman behind her, “were their wives, Prensy, and Kindoll.”

Alrhett felt the blood drain from her face as she beheld the two beautiful, young
women
who had just lost their noble husbands. Alrhett rose.

“We have been remiss,” she said. “We have left Our country and Our station to save my own life and the lives of my daughter and grandchild. We see now, Our life belongs to you, the people. We will not abandon you, even though my husband and grandson are missing. We will no longer be ruled by fear. I will carry only courage in my heart, and I will give it all to you, the people of the Weald.”

With that, Alrhett fainted. She was carried inside to her bedroom, as the outrage and anger of the people grew.

Alrhett slept all through the night and woke with the first rays of the morning sun. For a forgetful moment she was happy. Then she sat straight upright as the previous night’s infamy rushed into her mind.

“Has
there
been word of my husband, Yulenth!?” She cried to a guard standing silently in her room.

“He has not been... found,” the guard said, then he excused himself from the room.

Meybonne, Prensy, and Kindoll quietly entered, and helped Alrhett bathe and dress.

“I can never repay what your sons, your husbands, have given me,” Alrhett said to the women.

“You can, by ridding our land of the vipers
that
run it,” Prensy said.

“It is why they chose to do what they did,” Kindoll added.

“The court has already called for you,” Meybonne said.

“Good,” Alrhett said with determination. “I will begin repaying my debt immediately. Prensy, I need for you to ask the Master of the Library to join us at the court this morning.”

Prensy curtsied and left on her errand.

As Alrhett made her way to the court, a grim phalanx of armed citizens of over a hundred surrounded her on all sides. And she made no effort or speech to calm or control them.

The crowd had grown by three times as they reached the court. All was ominously quiet. Alrhett was admitted, and no attempt was made to keep the citizens, who were silent and fiery eyed, from filling the
spectator's
stands.

The judges quietly filed into the court room and took their seats at the raised bench.

The Lords of Rogar Li arrived and rudely pushed their way into the better seats in the galleries on either side of the great wooden hall. Some waved at Alrhett with friendliness while others glared with icy stares.

“Order, order,” Summeninquis solemnly intoned as he slowly banged his gavel. “This court is in session. We are here to try former queen Alrhett for the murder of Lord Argotine.”

The great hall was as silent as a tomb.

“Although our previous sessions were fraught with emotionality,” the judge continued, “we will see justice done here, without prejudice or sympathy.”

The judge’s backhanded apology received another chilly silence.

“Very well,” he said. “We will continue with the presentation of evidence. Hmmm. The Glaf isn’t present. Did he not wish to attend?”

“My husband, Yulenth of Glaf, is missing,” was all that Alrhett said.

“I’m very sorry,” Summeninquis said without emotion. “But we must continue without him. His brief and unspecific testimony was entered into the record anyway. Now, if there is no further inquiry-“

“I have several witnesses I wish to examine,” Alrhett interrupted.

“But, I thought,” Summeninquis stammered. “I thought we-“

Summeninquis took in the deadly, frozen faces glaring at him in the galleries.

“Of course,” he backpedaled, “every line of evidence must be followed. Please proceed. But know,” he paused for effect, “that all charges and testimony will be challenged.”

“Thank you,” Alrhett said. “May I please call the Master of the Library.”

A puzzled buzz ran through the crowd.

A bent over, elderly man with large, white, bushy eyebrows entered weakly clutching Prensy’s arm.

He was led to a chair placed in the center of the hall, facing the judges.

Alrhett rose and walked to him.

“You are the Master of the Library?” Alrhett asked in officious tones.

“Of course you know it’s me, my dear Alrhett,” the Master of the Library said with affection. “Why I haven’t seen you pouring over stories of the heroics of the elder Kings for some time. Where have you been?”

“Please,” Alrhett said with kindness. “We are in court. State your name for the court, please.”

“Oh,” the Master said suddenly straightening up in his chair. Then with a wink he said, “sorry, my queen.” Then he cleared his throat and with a very serious face said, “I am Nostacarr, Master of the Library of the great city Rogar Li, capitol of the Blessed Weald.”

The crushing crowd pleasantly murmured at his patriotism.

“As Master of the Library, Nostacarr, you are responsible for the recording of history, not only of the Weald, but also Wealdland in general?” Alrhett probed.

“Yes, yes,” Nostacarr said. “All history. Why did you know the king of the Madrun Hills was here just over seven days ago? He was begging for help and protection from the Weald. You see, it seems-“

“Please just answer the questions as they are put to you, Master,” Alrhett kindly said to stop the old man from rambling.

“Hmm? Oh. Of course. Sorry,” Nostacarr said, then smiled.

“In that history, Nostacarr, has the royalty or even the Lords of the Weald ever, and I repeat ever, resorted to black magic?”

“Black magic, hmm,” Nostacarr thought. “There have been some accusations which were later discredited.”

“Actual proven instances, please,” Alrhett urged.

“No,” the Master of the Library searched his great intellect. “As, a matter of record, I can state under oath, that there has been no instance of magic used by any wealdkin for centuries.”

“But there is magic in use today?” Alrhett continued.

“Magic?” Nostacarr seemed to perk up. “Oh yes. There’s that unspeakable fellow the messenger guild has been following around.”

“Deifol Hroth?”

“Yes, him,” Nostacarr rubbed his tired old legs. “And the elves...”

“The elves,” Alrhett seemed to hit on a thread she wanted. “Tell us of the elves.”

“Well,” the old man said, “as we know, they are all gone, killed by that miserable garond army. But they definitely used magic on a daily basis.”

“For evil?” Alrhett asked.

“Evil?!” The old man chortled. “An elf could do no evil magic if you held a sword to its throat. It’s not in their nature. Tied too closely to the earth. Black magic is unnatural, unearthly. That’s right.”

“What are some of the good, or earthly magical things you know, for certain, in your records, that the elves could do?” Alrhett examined.

“Well,” Nostacarr rubbed his grizzled face, “we know that they move exceedingly fast. Sometimes faster than the human eye can follow. Don’t know rightly if that’s magic, could just be that they’re fast,” he chuckled. “They have eyesight and hearing better than any human, again that might be a simple physical attribute. I don’t see-“

“Please think,” Alrhett urged.

“Oh, oh,” the old man perked up. “They talk to animals as plain as you or I talk to one another. That must be magical.”

“Animal speak/hear?”

“That’s what it’s called,” Nostacarr said with pleasure. “They have the ability-“

Suddenly, an out of breath young man broke into the courtroom, “The guild, the messenger guild!” He cried.

The whole court was astir.

A lanky, dust covered young man strode into the court.

“If it pleases the court,” the young man bowed, “all the Lords are here, so...”

“If it is urgent news,” Summeninquis boomed, “then out with it.”

“There was a great battle in the Madrun Hills,” the messenger said. “Thousands upon thousands of garonds attacked the town of Plymonley, where every Madronite had gathered. It was certain doom for these humans.”

“And we denied help to their king!” A voice cried from the gallery.

“But,” the messenger held up his hand. “A great victory for Madrun. An archer from Kipleth performed a miracle and slew a great number of the garonds. The garond army returned in defeat to their camp in Harvestley.”

A murmur of panic and worry rippled through the crowd.

“There’s more,” the messenger said, “There’s more!” The crowd quieted. “The general of the garond army, Ravensdred, offers a treaty of peace to the Weald, and a promise to not attack or molest her people, if they but refrain from aiding or interfering with his dispute with the armies of Reia and her allies.”

“Impossible!” A voice cried out.

“We must join Reia!” Another citizen cried.

“No! The Weald for the Weald!” Another voice yelled. Then all was tumult as Summeninquis banged his gavel.