The Lord Of Lightning (Book 3) (21 page)

Stralain of the Weald was Captain of the Armies of the nation of the Weald. His years had been kind as his features seemed youthful, his dark hair full. He was tall and square jawed,  honest and faithful, unlike the plague of politicians that filled the ranks of the Weald.

Several other soldiers and warriors of other nations joined the growing crowd headed towards the white mists on the edge of the human encampment. Stralain saw Stomikother, a Captain Atheling of the Kingdom of Man, standing with his arms on his hips. Across a space of ground, a group of about a hundred humans stood with their backs to the mist as if defending the citadel of the Evil Lord.

"Come back now, and no one will be charged with a crime," Stomikother called to the armed men.

"What are they doing?" Stralain asked as he sidled next to the Captain of Man.

"We now serve the One True Great Lord!" An agitated man called across the space to Stralain and Stomikother.

"Don't be stupid!" Stomikother called. The Captain Atheling was large and usually stood, slump shouldered, with a vacant stare that made him the butt of several jokes when his back was turned. He was not known for his wisdom or inspiration. Stralain's courage and loyalty were a direct comparison to the selfishness and brutality of Stomikother.

"What is the leader's name?" Stralain asked Stomikother, who stared at him vacantly.

"Fayollis," another Atheling said.

"Fayollis! Deifol Hroth has no need of human allies," Stralain intelligently called to the armed men who seemed to be guarding the mist.

"Who then are the men to lead us and make us safe?!" The agitated man called. "Kellabald is dead. Haergill is dead. Derragen is lost. Alrhett and Arnwylf are dead. Wynnfrith and Frea are lost, probably dead. Caerlund and Halldora have wandered off with the elf. Haerreth of Reia is dead, and the reians have left us to die on our own. We have no choice but to give our allegiance to the Dark One. Join us and perhaps he will spare you, too."

"There are those who would lead you!" A commanding voice boomed from the other side of Stomikother. Stralain leaned forward to look past the Captain of Man to see Summeninquis, High Judge of the Weald.

Stralain groaned to himself. The High Judge had been nothing but an obstruction to mending fences and creating treaties with the other shattered kingdoms. He ever played the subordinates left by the leaders of the ruined nations against each other.

"Come back and we will hear your grievances," Summeninquis called. "You have many valid points, and they must be addressed. Why, I myself have many of the same questions that you, too, have asked."

Stralain could hold his tongue no longer.

"You are idiots!" Stralain called over to the men defending the citadel. "Deifol Hroth wants only the death of all humans. He will not give you quarter, or save you. When has he ever done anything but kill any human he could lay his hands upon?"

The agitated men were speechless with the simple logic of Stralain's argument.

"We should ready archers," Stralain said to Stomikother. "If they do not return, their example should not be tolerated."

Stomikother stupidly opened his mouth, but didn't speak.

"How dare you?" Summeninquis snorted as he shouldered his way over. "These men need leadership and guidance. And you would rather just kill them?"

"Summeninquis," Stralain said from between patient, gritted teeth. "We are now an army of humans, no more, no less. And your... pronouncements, and... judgments are not only unnecessary, but an impediment to the morale of the army as a whole."

"I am still the High Judge of-" Summeninquis began, but was cut short by the screaming.

Stralain didn't need to order the archers. They already had their bows up and arrows nocked. Every warrior drew their sword without hesitation. It was well known that hideous, misshapen garonds, twisted by evil magic would saunter out from the mists and eat any human they could get their claws on.

Dust and dirt erupted from all about the renegade men. The turf of the Plain of Syrenf cracked open with great, mighty gaps that expelled noxious fumes. The very earth seemed to be opening its jaws.

Stomikother stupidly stepped forward as if to lead a charge, but Stralain held him back.

"Do you see any garonds?" Stralain asked.

"No," Stomikother stupidly mumbled.

The very earth seemed to be foaming all about the men guarding the mists of Deifol Hroth. Fountains of dirt spewed from the widening fissures splitting open all around Fayollis and his renegades. Stralain gasped in horror as he finally saw the corrupted, decaying hands reaching from up out of the earth to drag Fayollis and his men, one by one, screaming and frothing with madness, down into the earth.

Chapter Ten

Revelations and Strategies

After walking most of the night, the Archer was very tired. He and the elf, with about a hundred wolves, had walked more than half way across the Eastern Meadowland.

The night was calm, with a light breeze that blew away the heavy cloud cover from earlier in the evening. Nunee and the Wanderer stalked the vault of the night sky, casting double shadows. The moonlight on the vast prairie of moving grass made the meadowland look like a dark, slowing shifting ocean.

They had walked the whole distance of the meadowland in complete silence. It was not advisable to traverse the open meadow at night making any noise that might attract any animal, like the meadow lions that were once plentiful in Wealdland. The wolves were silent by nature.

The Archer looked up and saw a familiar stand of trees. He smiled to himself. They were headed to Bittel. A sound gurgled from the elf's tunic and Derragen, the Archer, was startled.

The elf, noticing the Archer's surprise gently opened her tunic to reveal a sleeping baby cuddled next to her body for warmth.

"It has slept the whole way?" The Archer whispered.

"I forgot to show you," the elf said with embarrassment. "We found the infant in Lanis, when his parents had just been slain by a very strange creature." Then the elf closed her tunic to keep the infant warm. "I'll tell you everything in a moment." They approached the first trees on the edge of the small stand that ringed what was left of the hidden village of Bittel.

Conniker let out a short bark to let the sentinel wolves know their leader had returned with his pack. The wolves all burst into short, greeting howls. The meadowland was momentarily filled with the blending melodies of the wails of the greeting and arriving wolves.

The infant, nestled in the elf's tunic began to cry.

"We'd better take care of Mótgrathsnaw," the elf said as the baby began to openly cry in hunger.

"Mót- ?" the Archer began.

"It's the name I gave to the baby," the elf replied as she set the baby next to a litter of nursing wolf pups. Mót fought for a nipple, and the nursing wolf licked the infant human's head. The mother wolf gladly accepted the human infant as it nursed on wolf's milk.

"It means 'little annoyance' in Miranei," the elf said with a blushing, half frown. "He won't let anyone hold him, but me."

Halldora stepped from the shadows. Her red hair was tied back, and the worries and pain of the last day was clearly etched on her face. "Welcome, kiplethite," the Queen of the Northern Kingdom of Man greeted.

Derragen hugged Halldora, but immediately sensed her sadness. "What is it?" He asked.

Halldora took the Archer by the hand and led him to a bier whereon Caerlund was laid. Halldora had combed the dead madronite's hair and washed his face. Caerlund appeared to be peacefully sleeping.

"Oh, no," the Archer breathed, and knelt before the slain Chieftain of the Madrun Hills in respect.

"He made Arnwylf his heir before he died," the elf said.

"Arnwylf is alive?"

The elf and Halldora answered with silence.

"I wanted to ask you," The Archer turned to Iounelle. "How did you know where to find me? How on earth did you know I would be in trouble?"

The elf smiled. "It was probably not an accident," she said. "The wolf sentries here detected those garonds moving past Bittel."

The Archer smiled with understanding. "Deifol Hroth sent them after me from his citadel south of here, knowing I would follow him."

"We couldn't have known," Iounelle said, "that they were sent for you. The wolves and I simply wanted to destroy the magic-twisted garonds, monstrosities that they are."

"Well it was fortunate for me," the Archer said with a sigh.

Suddenly a wolf sentry barked a short, clipped bark of warning.

"Someone's coming," the elf said and started for the edge of the tree line. Halldora and Derragen followed the elf.

Husvet, Geleiden, and the other human Wolf Brothers that had been readmitted to the pack joined them, ready to fight.

The wolves, several hundred, crowded at the edge of the tree line of Bittel. The elf could see two riders silhouetted against the black of the night.

"Two riders," Iounelle said, her keen eyesight better than even the wolves. "One is older, the other a younger man, possibly..." The elf stopped her self in worried terror. She drew her sword. The Archer quickly readied his bow with an arrow, glancing nervously sideways at Iounelle. The other humans quickly prepared themselves for a fight.

The wolves, however, seemed to be calm, rather than agitated as they should have been when some stranger entered their territory.

The elf could feel Conniker's mighty mane brush past her. She stepped forward as one of the riders dismounted.

Conniker leapt.

"My brothers," Arnwylf said to the astonished assembled.

The white wolf bodily knocked Arnwylf to the ground and the two cried in each other's arms with happiness. All the other wolves of Bittel squirmed in the dirt, in delight, as Arnwylf held out his hands to scratch their manes and bellies. Conniker, crying like a puppy, nipped at any wolf that got too close to his beloved brother. Arnwylf held Conniker's muzzle close to his. Conniker bathed Arnwylf's face with licks, and the boy let the wolf happily slobber on him.

"How I have longed to see you, my brother," Arnwylf said through tears.

"We thought you dead," Conniker said burying his great snout in Arnwylf's chest, deeply whimpering as only a wolf can.

"I thought for a moment that Arnwylf was..." Iounelle breathed in relief.

"Who?" Arnwylf asked.

"In profile you resemble..." Again, Iounelle couldn't bring herself to say it.

"I know," Arnwylf said with a nod, and let the thought go.

Yulenth greeted Halldora, Derragen and the elf.

"Caerlund is dead," the elf solemnly said to Arnwylf after he had spent his greeting with his wolf brother.

Arnwylf slowly rose to his feet."Show me," Arnwylf said, his body rigid, his face a mask.

The elf quietly led them to Caerlund's body. Arnwylf fell to his knees and pressed his forehead on Caerlund's cold hand.

"I have regained one brother and lost another," Arnwylf said through choked tears.

Conniker tipped back his head and let out a long, wavering howl that the other wolves respected by remaining silent. Arnwylf held very still as the white wolf sang a wolfsong for the dead friend of his brother.

Quiet the land

Still the wind

Long this night

Deep our grief

Guide his paws

Far, to the bright

Hunting lands, far

Happy his trail

Until we join him

In the eternal hunt

After the white wolf finished, Arnwylf buried his face in Conniker's mane and wept.

After Arnwylf had finished his sorrows, Geleiden and Husvet welcomed their old general. Arnwylf could see a new, deeper relationship had developed between the men that were once his captains, and he was happy for them.

A meal was prepared, and the humans sat in a circle with the elf as they ate in silence. The campfire cast long, flickering shadows on the sheltering trees of Bittel.

"I have been in the confidence of the Dark One for several moonths now," Yulenth began, once the meal had been cleared. "He has forced me spy on you all, when I was caught, alone in the darkest part of the Weald. I saw an excellent opportunity to spy on him, in return. But it has not been easy or without danger. He instructed me, tonight, to bring Arnwylf to His citadel, so He could take Arnwylf's body by force. I believe the Evil Lord's body may be close to being worn out."

"Could He really do that?" Arnwylf asked.

"With enough torture and starvation, possibly," Yulenth mused. "I know many of His plans, and we must prepare to stand against Him."

"He has no suspicion of your allegiances?" The Archer asked.

"He can see into the mind of the willing and the unguarded," Yulenth responded. "I do not know how much of my treachery against Him He sees, but I assume He would have destroyed me by now if He knew that I plot against Him."

"Perhaps He keeps you close to learn secrets from you, as you do to Him," the elf said with a frown. Yulenth did not answer her, knowing that she could be right.

"He has the Lhalíi," the Archer said with disappointment. Then, the Archer told all that had happened to him on the shores of the New Sea, the previous days. The assembled were particularly interested in the Kaprk-Uusshu.

"Ravensdred has the Sun and Moon swords," Yulenth said. "I saw them in the Far Grasslands." Then Yulenth told what had happened to him.

"Then all he has to do is fly to Ravensdred and we are undone," Halldora said with anguish.

"No," Yulenth replied. "He cannot fly long over water. The ocean saps His power. That is why He walked into Wealdland through Byland."

"But, He flew me out over the Bight of Lanis," Arnwylf said, "to kill me with the fall."

"He can fly a little way over the water," Yulenth said. "And, in that instance, He had the Lhalíi with the Sun Sword to aid His power. But, He cannot cross the New Sea. He needs His garond general to bring Him the swords."

"I will have the Moon Sword again," the elf said with a surprising viciousness.

"Unfortunately," Yulenth said, "the Sun Sword and the Moon Sword are melted together. They are of no use anymore as  martial weapons."

"What is Deifol Hroth's plan?" Halldora asked.

Before Yulenth could answer, Conniker pushed his great head into the circle.

"I have something important to tell you," the white wolf said to Arnwylf. "It's about what happened to me last year, when I was separated from the two old ones."

"Oh," the elf said, understanding the wolf, and remembering something. "Arnwylf. I'm so sorry. Your grandmother, Alrhett, Queen of the Weald, is dead. Garmee Gamee poisoned her with cakes meant to kill you. I loved her and will miss her. I am so sorry."

Arnwylf was quiet.

"I have something to tell-" the white wolf began again.

"Later, please," the elf admonished. Conniker was the Only Father, the First of the Firsts of the wolf clans, but he also knew the status and power of the elfkin, and so let the matter drop.

"And what of Garmee Gamee?" Arnwylf quietly asked. "Has anyone heard how my mother and Frea fare in the Far Grasslands?"

"I was with them, to protect them," Yulenth said, "until Garmee Gamee betrayed us."

"Ronenth left in a small boat to try to find them," Halldora said with a sympathetic smile.

"But now, we must assume that all of them are no longer among the living," Yulenth flatly stated.

No one spoke.

The Lords of Bittel, the wolves, raised up a chorus of howls. Arnwylf stood, and Conniker briefly yipped to him.

"There's something out there," Arnwylf said.

"Another magic-twisted garond?" The Archer asked.

"I don't think so," the elf said, "judging by the calls of the wolves." Iounelle and Arnwylf, who both had animal speak/hear, listened intently to the wolf sentries call back and forth to each other.

"One or two large animals. If they get near enough, the wolves will take care of them," Arnwylf confidently said. "Tonight we are safe."

The Archer turned to Arnwylf. "Could you please tell Conniker to tell his wolf sentries to be wary? Those animals could be  friends of mine." The Archer said nothing more, so Arnwylf didn't question him, and did as he asked.

The circle of friends silently stared at the dancing flames of the camp fire, waiting for word from the sentries, but none came.

Finally Halldora spoke. "You were going to tell us what you know of Deifol Hroth's plan," she said to Yulenth.

"In Midwinter," Yulenth began, "Solienth, Ronenth and I went to investigate reports of strange voices echoing throughout the forest of the Weald. Nostacarr came with us. Deep, in the blackest parts of the Weald, I found the Dark Lord and the black ring of trees with which he communicates to an ungodly creature from another place."

"We destroyed the ring of trees," the elf added.

"At that time, Deifol Hroth gave me a choice," Yulenth continued, "join Him, or be destroyed along with Solienth and Ronenth. I swore allegiance to the Lord of All Evil Magic in the hopes of learning His plans, to aid in our cause of defeating Him. It has turned out to be a tricky proposition as I soon learned He can read minds."

Yulenth paused.

"Read minds," Yulenth huffed to himself. "He can live through a mind, take a body over. You have all heard the Ballad of Sehen? Every word of that song is true."

"At the ruins of Glafemen," Arnwylf said, "he revealed that an ancient, evil spirit dwells within His body. He wanted to take mine because He said it was compatible with his needs."

"All true," Yulenth said. "Sometimes the King of Lies tells you a truth to hide a greater truth. The spirit took Deifol Hroth's body over nine hundred years ago, giving Him long life, but not immortality. Deifol Hroth was a friend, initially to the elfkin, desiring arcane knowledge and spending many years memorizing every text the elves kept in their vast libraries."