The Last Elf of Lanis (34 page)

Ravensdred finally joined the battle. With very little armor, and a long, wide sword, he laid human soldier after human soldier flat on the field of battle. His arc was swift and powerful. His bulging arms exerted a broad, lethal cut with his heavy sword. No human warrior could stand before the massacre of his two handed arc.

“We can’t contain them!” A captain cried to Kellabald who could see Ravensdred fighting his way towards him.

On the rooftop of one of the houses at Tyny, Wynnfrith, Halldora, Frea and Alrhett watched the battle. They could see the thin line of the human army trying to reach out and around the massive bulk of the garond army.

“They can’t get them to turn,” Alrhett said with despair.

“What is that?” Frea said staring at a cloud of dust rising up from the north into the midday sun.

From the north, far out across the plain of the Eastern Meadowland, Yulenth, Solienth, Arnwylf and Ronenth drove over six hundred angry aurochs and doderns towards the garond army. The thundering of the angry beasts grew and grew to a deafening roar. The human army to the north quickly moved out of the way as the long, deadly horns of the aurochs plowed into the garond army.

“They have to keep moving!” Alrhett cried.

“You can ride a horse?” Alrhett said to Frea.

“I have ridden one,” she answered.

“You have to take me out there!” Alrhett cried. They all understood. The women climbed down from the rooftop and ran towards the battlefield looking for a riderless horse.

Out on the field, Conniker nipped at the heels of the aurochs to keep them moving, but the weary, angry beasts gored the garonds and then began to stumble back and forth.

“Go! Go!” Arnwylf cried at the aurochs as they crashed into the screaming garond soldiers.

“Keep them moving!” Yulenth cried.

“I’m trying,” Ronenth yelled back.

“Be good,” Arnwylf said to Boldson with a pat, and then he leapt from his horse, onto the back of an Auroch. He kicked and kicked the bull and the great beast charged forward. Arnwylf held onto the mane of the muscular animal with all his might. The herd of beasts began to move south through the garond army, goring and crushing as they went.

Another rousing cheer went up from the human army; as yet another catapult went up in flames.

The furious aurochs continued to toss their heads and spear the garonds with their long, sharp horns. The doderns among the aurochs ran straight over any garond not impaled by an auroch.

“Move them! Move them!” Kellabald shouted at his army. “Get the garonds moving south!”

The stampede lost all its power right in the middle of the battlefield. Frea and Alrhett bravely rode right into the middle of the battle. “Follow me for the way out!” Alrhett cried to the aurochs.

The aurochs and doderns snorted approval and the stampede resumed with the vicious beasts tearing their way south, following Frea and Alrhett on horseback.

Arnwylf found he was
unable to get off the bull auroch he was riding. He dodged garond swords and clubs again and again. “Help!” He cried.

Out in the middle of the battlefield, the elf turned her head. “This way,” she cried to the Archer.

“But, the next sling is over there,” the Archer shouted back above the roar of the battle.

But, the elf had turned around and began to fight. Kellabald turned with the elf and the Mattear Gram sung a song of death. “Why are we going this way?” Kellabald cried to the elf.

The elf just pointed, and Kellabald looked up to see his son stranded on the back of an auroch, with the garond army raging on all sides. A growl started in Kellabald’s throat as he hacked his way towards his son. The stampede kicked up dust and caused great confusion. The auroch with Arnwylf turned to join the stampede.

Kellabald roared as he slashed forward, but the Mattear Gram was stopped with a clang against Ravensdred’s sword. “Get Arnwylf!” Kellabald cried to the elf as he circled the garond war general.

The aurochs continued moving through the garond ranks, the smell of the slaughtered horses keeping them from the human side of the battle.

The elf pulled Arnwylf down from the auroch he was sitting on. They fought garonds back to back amid the maelstrom of the stampeding long horned beasts.

The horse Frea was riding was slick with sweat and blood and she slipped off.

“Frea!” Alrhett cried as her granddaughter fell amongst the rampaging aurochs.

Ronenth saw her red hair and guided Quickly, his horse, to Frea. Reaching down he pulled her onto his horse. With a laugh he gave her a kiss on the cheek, then urged the animals on, spearing garonds left and right.

Alrhett leaned forward to grip the mane of the horse she was on, it was as panicked as the animals all around her.

“Calm down!” Alrhett called to the horse, but the war was too frightening for the poor horse and it continued on, fearful.

Yulenth saw his wife and pushed Gladsir, his horse, to her. “Alrhett!” Yulenth called. Gladsir was brave and charged towards the horse carrying Alrhett. Yulenth reached over and pulled her onto his horse. “I’ll get you back to Tyny,” Yulenth said to her.

“No!” Alrhett said. “We have to lead the aurochs around the garond army.

“Very well, then,” Yulenth said with understanding, and urged Gladsir forward.

“This way!” Alrhett shouted to the aurochs, which lifted their heads and charged after them.

“Turn them! Turn them!” Caerlund bellowed to his troops. The human troops followed behind the stampede tiredly hacking at the garonds.

And then, the garonds began to run.

They began to run from north to south, but the aurochs had already looped up behind the garond army and headed north.

From their vantage point on the rooftop at Tyny, Wynnfrith and Halldora could see the whole garond army, encircled by human and auroch, moving like a dangerous whirlpool. And, just as Arnwylf had predicted, the garond soldiers began to trip and fall on each other, as they did when they first chased him at Harvestley. Their short, bow legs made it difficult for them to run in anything but a straight line. Their fighting became nothing more than defense, which made them easy prey for the much smaller numbers of the human army who were filled with a surge of hope and vigor.

In the middle of that vortex of destruction, Ravensdred circled Kellabald. “Give me the sword,” Ravensdred snarled, “and I will let you live.”

“Come and take it,” Kellabald said through clenched teeth.

The Archer made his way to the elf and Arnwylf, and the three of them fought as a triangle, back to back to back.

Caerlund axed his way to the men following the stampede. “Close the circle!” Caerlund bellowed to his men, and the human army pressed the garond army tighter and tighter.

Ronenth, with Frea riding behind him, urged Quickly on to catch up with Solienth, and Yulenth with Alrhett, as they led the aurochs back up to the meadowlands of the north.

“Let them go!” Solienth shouted. “We have the garond army where we want them.”

“And we don’t want any more humans gored than need be,” Yulenth answered.

“Right,” Solienth said. “Let’s get back to the fight!” And the three Glafs wheeled their horses back to the war raging in the Eastern Meadowlands, as the blood splattered wave of aurochs, frothing at the mouth, headed back to the north.

Ravensdred swung a deadly, overhead strike at Kellabald, who parried with the Mattear Gram. Any other sword would have shattered, but the sun sword held. Kellabald shook with the horrible force of the blow.

His knees were weak, but Kellabald thrust with the Mattear Gram. Ravensdred had uncanny skills and averted the thrust with his massive, broad sword.

Ravensdred brought his hilt up and clouted Kellabald in the chin. The world went white for a moment, but Kellabald staggered back to get his bearings.

Ravensdred took the opening for another vicious overhand strike.

The Mattear Gram softly spoke to Kellabald. “Move,” the sword said to Kellabald in his head. Kellabald held up his sword and the killing stroke glanced away as he stepped lightly to the correct side. Ravensdred buried his sword deep into the ground of the battlefield.

Kellabald felt the sun sword moving him. He stepped back, and thrust forward at Ravensdred’s heart.

But, the wily garond had the reflexes of a snake, and shifted his body. What would have been a strike right to his heart, was instead a brutal slice across the top of his bare upper arm.

Ravensdred roared in pain. He thrust his whole, heavy body up at Kellabald and knocked him off his feet.

Kellabald climbed up to his feet as Ravensdred swung a wide, flat arcing slash at him. The sun sword whipped up and blocked with a resounding ring.

Ravensdred tried a shuffle step, with a skillful feint and a back handed, swaying slice. Kellabald easily evaded and parried. Ravensdred snorted in angry frustration. He couldn’t beat the Mattear Gram with brute force or his best expertise.

Ravensdred roared and five foot soldiers left their individual battles to help him. A sixth garond carelessly turned and was skewered for his trouble.

Like the moment in Bittel when he first held the sun sword, Kellabald felt time slow down. He saw the five garonds and Ravensdred all attacking as though they were suspended in water. “These first,” the Mattear Gram said to him.

Ravensdred caught his breath as Kellabald moved with an unnatural speed, killing two garonds the moment they were within the sword’s reach.

Kellabald was surprised to see Apghilis fighting on the field nearby, moving near him. He felt glad for the support, even if it was Apghilis. “Over here!” Kellabald called to Apghilis. Then, he concentrated on the three garonds before him, and Ravensdred still trying to get an opening with his sword.

Kellabald felt the Mattear Gram moving in his hand like a metal bird, flying back and forth to deflect and counter. “Beware! Beware!” The Mattear Gram shouted in Kellabald’s mind, but he didn’t understand the warning amid all the confusion of the battle with the four garonds attacking.

Arnwylf could just see Kellabald across the field of battle. His father was surrounded by garonds, and facing the huge war general as well. Then, Arnwylf saw Apghilis run his sword into Kellabald’s back.

Ravensdred quickly grabbed the Mattear Gram out of Kellabald’s grip.

The Archer saw the betrayal, thrust his sword into the garond who faced him, then swung his bow around and nocked an arrow of Yenolah.

Ravensdred raised his own sword to finish Kellabald, as a vicious black arrow pierced his upraised arm.

Arnwylf was paralyzed, then his feet moved forward. He ran to his father hacking garonds with a will. “Father!” He cried.

The elf saw what had happened and rushed in front of Arnwylf, the moon sword sung with fury, carving a path for him.

Ravensdred, clutching his punctured arm, ran with the Mattear Gram, snarling for foot soldiers to cover his flight. He was soon lost in a mass of garond soldiers.

Arnwylf looked for Apghilis, but the treacherous vermin had fled the meadow, too.

The garond army was broken, and divided into three groups which retreated from the blood drenched Eastern Meadowland to the south, into the Weald, and to the north with their gravely wounded leader clutching his
ill-gotten
prize.

Arnwylf held his mortally wounded father. “Help!” He cried. “Somebody help me!”

The Archer and the elf reached his side, and the three of them quickly carried Kellabald from the field of battle.

Chapter Twenty One

Celebrations and Funerals

Kellabald felt himself being carried. He gazed up at the azure blue sky of the late afternoon. The snow and clouds had cleared into a cold day, ready for winter. He could feel the blood oozing out of his body. He felt the blackness crowding in on his consciousness. He thought, let me see this, let me stay to see only this.

Crows scuttled across the sky. It would be a good day for them. The rocking of being carried off the battlefield sent Kellabald to sleep.

He woke with a start in the house in Tyny with physicians working quickly over his body. He was on his back, on a table. The worried voices sounded muffled. He turned his head and saw Arnwylf holding Wynnfrith, staring at him with large eyes, filled with fear.

Oh my loved ones, was all he thought before he slipped into unconsciousness again.

Out on the late afternoon battlefield, the last of the garonds fled for their lives. The human army wearily leaned on their swords. The battle for the Eastern Meadowland was over and the human army was victorious. But, no voice was yet raised in joyous sounds of triumph.

Women and children began to enter the meadow, looking for husbands, brothers and sons. Some were met with painful strains of happy relief. Other’s calls went unanswered.

Caerlund met up with Haerreth, who still had both arms bandaged from his serious wounding by Apghilis the day before.

“Has the Mattear Gram been retrieved?” Haerreth asked.

“It was last seen in the hands of the garond war general,” Caerlund said. “The garond forces were split. Some went north and some went south. The garonds heading south were split again by the Bairn River. It’s believed the ones that got around the river have headed for their base in Harvestley.”

“Have the garonds who ended up on the north side of the Bairn continued east?” Haerreth asked, as captains of the human army gathered.

“It is feared they have fled into the Weald,” a captain reported.

“They must not be allowed to build a base in our sacred wood,” a captain of the Weald said with anger.

“No garond will be allowed to remain anywhere in Wealdland,” Caerlund said with a snort, and the captains all added serious grunts of agreement.

“But the sun sword...” Haerreth said.

“It is more than just a sword,” Caerlund said with a reverent nod. “All know that now. Did you see Kellabald with that sword?”

“He moved just as Haergill in his finest days,” a captain from the Northern Kingdom of Man said with a wistful frown. “Before we began to fight nation to nation,” he finished with his eyes turned down in shame.

“Well, we are now united,” Haerreth said trying to lift spirits. “And we will remain that way.”

“Our enemy has made us strong,” Caerlund gravely agreed. “But we must retrieve that sword. It must not fall into the hands of the Lord of Lightning. I have seen channels of power associated with that sword. We must pray that the garond leader fled north, for that separation prevents him from putting the Mattear Gram into the clutches of Deifol Hroth.”

“We must immediately organize armies to pursue the broken factions of the garond army,” Haerreth said. “Every human army should include men from all nations.”

“A good idea,” Caerlund said. “Let us go to Tyny to see how our war general fares.” Caerlund, Haerreth, and the captains turned to stride towards Tyny.

Ronenth, with Frea, riding Ronenth’s horse, Quickly, pulled into Tyny. They dismounted and ran to Halldora who was holding Wynnfrith, who was racked with sobs.

“Where is Arnwylf?!” Frea cried.

“He is in with his father,” Halldora said. “Arnwylf is unharmed, but Kellabald may not live.”

“I could not watch,” Wynnfrith said, between sobs, as Halldora held her tighter.

Frea broke into sobs and pushed her face into Ronenth’s shoulder. Ronenth put his arm around her and held her.

Yulenth with Alrhett rode up, with Solienth riding behind. As soon as they stopped, Solienth fell from his horse, his leg soaked with blood. Yulenth and Alrhett leapt from Gladsir.

“You are seriously wounded,” Yulenth cried, pressing both hands on the wound. “Bring physicians!”

“Leave them for younger men,” Solienth said.

“Save your breath for insulting me later,” Yulenth said with a brave smile. Solienth laughed a weak laugh.

Alrhett fled to find a physician.

In the house in Tyny, the Archer and the elf flanked Arnwylf as he watched the physicians trying to save his father’s life.

“Perhaps we should step outside,” The Archer said to Arnwylf.

“As long as my father draws breath,” Arnwylf flatly said, “I will be by his side.”

“Then we will be beside you,” the elf said.

The Archer pulled the elf to a far corner of the house. “About our conversation before the battle,” the Archer struggled for words. “It’s not that I don’t have certain feelings for you...”

“What are you talking about?” The elf said with a blank face.

“I thought...” the Archer stammered.

“The broken heart of one elf matters little now,” the elf said without emotion. “The whole of Wealdland, if not the entire earth, may soon be destroyed.”

The Archer saw that there was no guile in the elf, and he solemnly nodded. “Just know,” the Archer added, “where you go, I go.”

“That is your decision,” the elf said with tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Then, she turned to stand next to Arnwylf to comfort him. The Archer also approached, but stayed back a step.

The physician turned to Arnwylf. “We have stopped the bleeding,” the physician said. “Now it is in the hands of Oann.” Then the physicians left to care for other wounded soldiers.

As night fell, funeral pyres lit up the meadowland. Brave human soldiers were given their honorable due as their families prayed and wept. And, mounds of dead garond soldiers burned in long leaping tongues of flame reaching up to the stars in the sky. Nunee shone bright and full. The Wanderer was smaller and farther than ever before, moving in its new, erratic path.

Joyous voices began to sing. Those left alive pledged new family bonds to those left without father or brother. The singing began to catch from family to family, as the human voices rang across the meadowland, solemnly grateful for those spared, and mournfully respecting those who gave their lives.

In the tent of Healfdene, the leaders of the human nations gathered. Healfdene and Haerreth of Reia hosted the Archer from Kipleth, Halldora of the Northern Kingdom of Man, Yulenth of Glaf, Alrhett of the Weald, Caerlund of the Madrun Hills, and the last elf of Lanis. Many captains and lords of the nations filled the tent.

“Tomorrow will be a day of hope for the Wealdland,” Healfdene said.

“Our enemy has sought to destroy us,” Halldora agreed, “by setting us against each other.”

“We have before us,” Alrhett said, “an unprecedented opportunity to forge alliances, stronger than ever before, between our nations.”

“First let us have a moment of silence for those who gave their lives this day,” Healfdene said. The assembled quietly contemplated the soldiers who gave their all on the field of battle.

Healfdene raised a goblet. “May their sacrifices be honored by us,” Healfdene reverently said, “by living lives of virtue, honesty, and integrity.”

“And may their children,” Haerreth quickly added, “be regarded as our very own children, without reservation.”

“Without reservation,” the group promised with upraised cups. Then they all drank a solemn promise.

“If there are still grievances,” Healfdene said, “then let them be spoken now, so that our pacts will be made without doubt or hesitation.”

The tent was silent.

“I know of one grievance to be addressed,” Halldora said clearing her throat. “The Kingdom of Man has done the worst against the Kingdom of the Glafs. Is there any here who dispute it?”

The tent felt the weight of shame.

“The wars against the Glafs, whom we called the Ettonnes, was unjust, and led almost to their extinction,” Halldora said.

“Now, Halldora...” Yulenth began to protest.

But she held up her hand. “Yulenth,” Halldora said, “I may have lived for two years as your friend, but today I am the Queen of the Northern Kingdom of Man. I ask that you respond as the King of the Glafs, now king by right of birth.”

“Very well,” Yulenth said. “Then let me say, I do harbor ill will to the citizens of Man. Let us be honest. Very well. There are only three of us left, for what? An insult over whose capitol was more beautiful? A dispute over the boundary of a plowed field? Cross words exchanged between two strangers on a darkened street? I know not what was the impetus of our war, but we lost. I ask no reward or repayment. What is done is done. I do this as an example to all. Let your disputes fall as fruit grown rotten on the branch. Let them lie on the ground where they belong, and join the dust of the earth. Perhaps then new seeds of life and forgiveness can grow from this. Perhaps you will think how your people may be swept from the earth if you relentlessly pursue war. As one of the three Glafs left, I say, we take partial responsibility for the war with our neighbor to the north. I cannot say were the situation reversed I would be happy or sad. How can I know such an awful thing? I see more and more the shame the whole kingdom of Man feels. I know not how to forgive a whole people. But somehow I must try.”

All were moved by Yulenth’s words.

“Ask of me, Yulenth of Glaf,” Halldora said, “whatever you desire, I will grant it, even unto the whole of the kingdom.”

“Whatever I desire?” Yulenth quietly said. “What I desire? I desire to be back in Bittel with the gentle summer sunshine falling through the oak trees. I desire the good companionship of my wife and her friends, and my adopted grandson, still a child, proudly showing me the first fish he ever caught. Can you bring those days back to me? This is my greatest desire.”

“Give him the whole kingdom,” A captain of Man said, holding back tears.

“Would that I could give you those days again,” Halldora said. “I grant you all of the Northern Kingdom of Man you desire, but I fear your Glaf pride will keep you from taking any single thing,” she said with an emotional smile. “I can promise you, Yulenth, my friend of Bittel, we will try to bring back those days of peace and happiness. I promise this with all my heart.”

All in the tent were quiet, wishing for the days of peace gone by.

“Now let us swear truce and cooperation,” Healfdene said. “I think all the leaders of the nations should keep their stations and powers, but I hope we will all be eager to move as one when confronting the garond presence still left in our land.”

“There are rumors that we have seen but a portion of the army which still waits beyond Byland,” the Archer softly said. “But I swear, that my bow will not rest, nor my sword slumber
,
until every last one of those vermin
is
expelled from my sacred home.”

“And, I!” A captain shouted. “And, I!” The whole tent resounded.

“Well then,” Healfdene said with a sad happiness. “We need to organize what is left of our army, and discover where our enemy is and what strength remains with their numbers.”

“Getting that sword back ought to be first priority, I reckon,” Caerlund humbly said.

“I agree,” the elf added before Healfdene had time to protest.

“Then the forces sent out to find and deal with the garonds left in our home land,” Haerreth said, “should do so with finding the Mattear Gram foremost in their thoughts.”

“Let it be so,” Healfdene said, and the conference was concluded.

In the dark of night, in the house in Tyny, Kellabald woke to candlelight and the fearful faces of his wife and son.

“Husband!” Wynnfrith exclaimed.

“Wynnfrith,” Kellabald weakly said. “Son,” he said to Arnwylf, who was so choked with tears he couldn’t speak.

“Are the garonds driven from the eastern meadowland?” Kellabald softly asked.

“Your leadership has saved us all,” Wynnfrith said with a kiss.

“The sword!” Kellabald said and tried to rise, his bandages seeping blood.

“Rest, Kellabald,” Wynnfrith eased him down onto the bed. “The garond leader has the sun sword, but he won’t get far. His army is in tatters.”

“I will get the sword back for you,” Arnwylf said to his dying father, with determination in his eyes.

“My son,” Kellabald. “You have had to become an adult too soon. I apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Arnwylf said through his tears.

“There are so many things I would tell you,” Kellabald said.

“You will live a long time to tell me all the things of your heart,” Arnwylf bravely said.

“My eyes grow darker with every passing moment,” Kellabald said holding Arnwylf’s hand. “Let us be honest with every word, for I fear I have few left to give you.” Kellabald shifted on the bed so he could look more directly at Arnwylf.