As they embraced, Talon fluttered around them excitedly. When they stepped apart, Hyden noticed that the elf wasn’t there. He took Mikahl by the shoulders, and was crushed by the sadness he saw in his friend’s eyes.
“What of Vaegon?” Hyden Hawk’s words came out in a fog of breath.
The icy rain had slackened, but there was no summer sun left in the sky to burn away the clouds, or to warm the chill air. Fall was beginning to set in, and winter was close on its heels.
“He died fighting alongside the men on the wall.” Queen Willa spoke softly from her huddle of cloaks, saving Mikahl from having to speak the words.
“His body is in a casket in the Preserver’s Hall,” added Mikahl, with a sniffle. “I want us to take him home together.”
“Aye.” Hyden brushed away his own tears, and extended a wrist, so that Talon could land. “What of the demon-wizard? Did you take him?”
“Aye,” Mikahl answered. He sniffled again, and this time, he didn’t bother to wipe away the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. “His head is rotting in its very own dungeon cell. His body is in a separate one. What of the wench who invaded my father’s kingdom?”
It was a hard thing to do what Hyden Hawk did then, but his friend deserved nothing less than the truth of the matter. He explained what he did, and why he did it as well. Mikahl didn’t like it, but he tried to understand Hyden’s perspective. It made him think about his own brother.
“I wonder what happened to Prince Glendar?” he asked, letting Hyden off the hook. As they made their way down the stairs, and out of the weather, King Jarrek came up with several clever possibilities that could have been Glendar’s fate.
The sadness over the loss of life, and the uncertainty of the future, hung heavily in the air over the group, but before they even reached the bottom of the long stairway, Jarrek had suggested a course of action that appealed to Mikahl. Queen Willa added the beginnings of a scheme of her own, to gain the aid of Queen Rachel, and possibly cowardly King Broderick. A lot had been lost and destroyed by Pael’s dark ambition, but hope it seemed was still abundant.
The people of Wildermont were still being held as slaves in Dakahn, but now there was hope for them. The dragon-less Dragon Queen’s lizard men and Breed beasts, still occupied Westland as well. There was a lot to be done. A tentative plan was formed, but only so much could be done before winter set in. Amazingly, not a single one of them wasted more than a moment before they started getting to it.
The returning of Vaegon to his people in the Evermore Forest went badly.
The long, four day trek from Xwarda, deep into the woods, had been ripe with the hope of the elves coming to the aid of the decimated human populations. The craftsmanship and skill of the elven builders and artisans had once helped raise the great city from the Wardstone foundation below. Side by side, elves, dwarves and men had created the wonder that was Xwarda. The hope that the elves would come to their aid was spurred on by words Vaegon had written in his journal. High King Mikahl had read them to the people of Xwarda at a ceremony before the trip to the Evermore began.
The elf had praised the ways of the men he had befriended, and appealed to his own people to try and rebuild the bridge that spanned the gulf between the two races. The elves of the Evermore, however, had no desire to even acknowledge the fact that the humans had come back to their forest. It didn’t matter to them, that Vaegon Willowbrow had given his life to thwart Pael’s evil. Nor did it matter that his remains, or what was left of them, were in the casket that the humans had borne.
For seven days, Mikahl and Hyden sat in the forest with the casket. Hyden could see the elves around them. Looking through Talon’s eyes, his sight was akin to elven vision, and it allowed him to see them moving like wraiths through the forest. They didn’t want to be seen though. After Mikahl learned that the elves knew that they were there, he sent the escort of honor guard who had carried Vaegon’s body, back to Xwarda. His hope was that the elves were not showing themselves because of all the people.
That had been on the second day. Now, five days later, the elves still watched them from a distance. Talon flew among them, getting their attention, so that Mikahl, or Hyden, could call out to them, and explain why they were there. They shouted out that Vaegon had died a hero, fighting to save the world from demon kind. They explained that the elf had often spoken of his love for his people in this forest. Mikahl eventually called them all cowards for not having the fortitude to show themselves.
Finally, Dieter Willowbrow, Vaegon’s younger brother, responded from the trees.
“Leave this place, and leave my brother when you go!” his voice was thick with emotion. He was torn between his love for his brother, and his duty to his stubborn, and closed-minded Elders.
“We won’t leave, until we know that our friend’s body is in the hands of those who would honor him,” Mikahl responded angrily.
“Dieter!” Hyden Hawk called out. “Vaegon asked me once to give you his journal if anything happened to him. I’ll not leave until it’s in your hands.”
To emphasize his power of will, Talon fluttered down in front of Dieter’s face, and cawed out loudly. This display scared the elves a little bit, and for another day nothing happened. Finally, Mikahl, who had the fate of several kingdoms weighing down on his shoulders, had had enough.
Ironspike came free of its sheath. Its blade was stark, and blinding white with Mikahl’s rage. The elves were so taken aback by the sight, that some of them forgot their stealth, and gasped with awe, and surprise. Mikahl let out a primal scream of rage, then went about cleaving tree, after ancient tree, in a great circle around where Vaegon’s coffin lay. The big oaks and elms fell away from the circle, and came crashing down around the elves, hiding in the surrounding woods.
Finally, Dieter showed himself. He strode out of the wreckage, with tears streaming down his face. He kept his wild, yellow eyes cast downward in shame, not only for himself, but for his people, while all around the place, which would come to be known as Vaegon’s Glade, the rest of the angry elves cried outrage, and sacrilege over what Mikahl had done to their sacred trees.
Mikahl stalked a circle around Vaegon’s casket, and glared at them, daring them to challenge him.
Hyden knew that elves rarely cried. His heart went out to Dieter, because it was obvious that he was being tormented with conflicting emotion. He knew what it was like to lose a brother.
“Vaegon was twice the man any of you will ever be!” Mikahl yelled, through clenched teeth. “He thought of more than himself, of more than his own kind. He knew the strength of the evil we faced, and he stared it in the eyes. He didn’t cower in the woods. He didn’t run or hide from it! He stood tall and proud! You shame your race with your cowardice, with your haughty lack of concern for those other than yourselves.”
Mikahl spat at the smoldering trunk of one of the trees he had just felled.
“There will come a day when your people will need the aid of men. You’d better hope that it is I who rule when that day comes, because I won’t run from your need. Because of Vaegon alone, if that time ever comes, I will rally men to stand beside you, even though you are no better than gutter curs. Now, come, gather the body of the best of your kind, before I cut this whole forest to the ground!”
Hyden gave Dieter the journal, and then went to Mikahl’s side. It was all he could do to drag Mikahl away from Vaegon’s coffin. Neither of them seemed to care about the dozens of arrows that were trained on them as they left the newly formed clearing. Both were angry, and saddened by the way things had gone. It was a long while before either of them dammed the flow of tears. When they stopped to rest, Hyden sought out Talon’s vision again, and was pleased to find the hawkling vigilantly watching over the elves, as they dug a human style grave for Vaegon, with more than a little fear showing in their feral eyes.
When they got back to Xwarda, Hyden decided that he would ask Queen Willa to assign him a tutor. He was determined to learn how to read. He had to research the history of piracy, and try to ferret out where the dragon called Cobalt had taken Barnacle Bones’s ship after he had snatched it out of the ocean.
He knew that High King Mikahl would have his hands full all winter, training the troops he and King Jarrek had specially chosen for the campaign they were planning to carry out in the spring. Hyden couldn’t help much there, save for giving the archers advice. He would spend his spare time helping the people of Xwarda, and the rest of Highwander, rebuild. Pael’s undead army had left a trail of decimation across the entire realm.
When the burial of Vaegon was completed, Talon rejoined Hyden and Mikahl. The long walk back to the city, was filled with hope and sadness, but by the time Xwarda’s golden-topped towers were in sight, both of the young men had found the steely reserve they would need to face what was ahead of them.
Talon felt none of those emotions. The exhilaration of flight, of soaring overhead on the thermals that cut through the cool, fall air was far more interesting than yesterdays or tomorrows. The hawkling did have a job to do though, but his was easy. All Talon had to do was keep his friends looking up.
The End of Book One
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M. R. Mathias
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