Light Of Loreandril (58 page)

A
multitude of dead lay
around
them,
r
ow upon row, stretching
far
across the valley. The different kin were not segregated;
they fought as one army and would meet their afterlife together as one army. Man, Elf, Dwarf and Gnome were to be
alike in their fate and honour.

Jaidan eventually broke the awful silence. “Come, we should see if they need any help with the wounded.”
He placed a reassuring hand on broad shoulder of the dwarf. There were living that needed help, the dead could wait together until sunset.
 

Taking one last look at the unknown dwarf, Gaular
followed.

“Hey! You there!” A familiar voice
called out in a cheery fashion
.

The two comrades span round, wondering who on earth showed such disrespect to the dead. Their anger quickly subsided when they saw it was their old friend Gomel, trundling towards them. Jaidan stooped low to embrace his dear friend, both laughing with joy and relief. Gaular was just as pleased to see him and picked up the gnome. Gomel objected at first, but soon gave in, laughing and hugging.
His attire was somewhat worse for wear, but other than that he seemed relatively unscathed.
 

“Omph! I thought you were both guaranteed to be dead!”

“Well, we nearly were………what took you so long?” mocked Gaular.

“I wouldn’t push your luck, Gaular. As far as I’m concerned we arrived at just the right time. We saved the day!”

“That you did. That you did!” laughed Jaidan, hardly believing these two were already bickering,
just like old times.
 

“Anyway….have you heard anything about the others? I’ve been looking for them.”

“Well, Nymril and Eilendan are safe. We have seen them both briefly.”

Gomel was overjoyed at the news. “You mean, Nymril was healed? Nilean told me she was close to death!” he exclaimed.

“She was, but the return of the Aeonorgal saved her.”

“And what of the two young clansmen, Cradon and Nechan? I am looking forward to being reunited with that fiery young clansman. We made quite a team!”

Jaidan and Gaular both fell silent.

“You don’t know, do you?” Gomel easily read their solemn faces.

“We were on our way to lend a hand with the wounded….”

“And hoping to come across them one way or another,” finished Jaidan.

It was a task none wished for, but it was a necessary evil.
Together, the three picked their way through the lines of the dead, carefully checking each maimed face. To their relief they did not find the bodies of either boy.

The field hospital was in a state of
orderly
panic.
Despite the numbers being treated, clean linen and bandages were still in abundant supply. However, the wounded heavily outnumbered the healers.
The three comrades had found themselves in the midst of another battle; one with time.
 

T
he screams of the gravely wounded
were mixed with the feverish last mutterings of the dying.
Jaidan could not stand by without helping, and quickly jumped in to lend a hand as a nurse tried her best to bind a pouring, bloody wound.

“
Keep
s
earching!” were Jaiden's last words to
Gomel and Gaular,
as he pushed either side of a gaping thigh wound together. The elven archer seemed already at death's door, unconscious, with a pale clammy complexion, yet somehow, he had still maintained hold of his bow.
 

Jaiden was soon lost behind them in the swamp of injured. I
t took several hours of walking up and down the aisles trying to find them. They frequently asked the passing nurses and healers, but most were too busy to even answer.
Undeterred the faithful pair continued.
 

Finally, they saw
a
familiar shock of red hair.
It
had to
be Cradon. They could only hope that he was still with his brother. It was a scramble, but the made it to him double time.
 

Cradon did not stir, even
though they called his name,
instead, he sat like a statue, eye's closed as if in prayer. It was all too clear why.
He still held the hand of Nechan, who now lay on a make-shift bed. The nurses had thrown Nechan’s white armour to one side. The boy looked dead. The only faint sign of life was the occasional shallow fall and rise of his chest.

“Where is he injured?” Gomel
queried beginning to study Nechan's body. Gaular to
o
, kneeling down beside the bed, began feeling for signs of an injury.
 

Cradon did not reply. He was consumed with thoughts of guilt, wishing he had not dragged his brother down onto the battlefield. They should have stayed up on the hill where it was safer. Yet, perhaps that would not have prevented the strange manipulation of his body. Cradon still did not understand what had happened to his brother, and he had found no one who had been able to explain it to him.
Now, all he felt able to do was pray.
 

Gently, Gomel began inspected Nechan’s limp body, carefully lifted each limb one at time. He checked under the armpits and down his back and legs for any discrete or hidden wound, but found nothing.

“I don’t understand.” Gomel rubbed his balding head, a confused look of concern on his face. “He seems unharmed, not a mark on his body.”

“What happened, Cradon?” Gaular placed a heavy but concerned hand on the boy’s shoulder.

It was several minutes before Cradon began to find the words to speak. “I….I don’t know.” He shook his shaggy head, still gripping his brother’s hand. “Something that I don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“The light…..It came from inside him……somehow.”
He continued starring at his brother.
 

Gaular and Gomel looked at each other, still as confused as before.

“Omph! We should find Nymril or one of the Elders. Perhaps they will know how to help him,” Gomel shrugg
ed
his shoulders.

“There’s no need.” Gomel turned to look in the direction Gaular was pointing. Sure enough, there was several Elders approaching, one of them Neornil.

“Praise be! He still lives!” gasped Neornil,
clapping his hands together
. “I have been searching for him everywhere!”

“How can he have survived, if what you say is true? He is only a clansman,” Theonil exclaimed.

The gaggle of Elders
now
surrounded Nechan. Neornil had finally informed the council about the Aeonthel the young clansman was carrying.
Theonil examined, but did not remove, the dainty
object around the boy's neck.
Frustratingly, most of what passed between them was in elvish, but Gaular and Gomel knew they must be patient and all would be answered in time. A numbed Cradon still sat in silence.
 

Theonil eventually broken into common tongue, “This was an unfortunate but expected consequence.” He shook his head in dismay, standing over Nechan, a thoughtful hand brought up to his mouth.

“An expected consequence of
what?”
Gomel explained. If Cradon was not in a state to ask, he definitely would.
 

Gaular stood up straight, arms folded across his chest, waiting for an explanation.

“Forgive me, my friends,” Theonil held up a calming, apologetic hand. “I trust you saw the bright dome of light that spread across the battlefield. Did you not wonder from whence that came?”

The pair shrugged. They had both seen it, but both, like many others, had been deep in combat.

The Elder continued. “Well, that conjuration came from, or through Nechan.”

“You're referring to Earth Magic, like
Nymril?
” Gomel was disbelieving.
 

The group of Elders nodded in unison.

“Nechan is a truly special, unusual clansman. However, it is
clear th
at the experience has
drained most of
his
life energy.  
As I said, an
unfortunate but expected consequence.

“Can you help him?” stuttered Cradon.
He had been listening, even if not moving.
It was very apparent, that though uninjured, the battle and fear for his brother had exhausted him. He was clearly suffering the effects of shock.

The Elders
returned to Elvish once more, but a decision was quickly reached
. They beckoned a passing soldier over.

“Find the two Aeon elves, tell them their work for the Elders is not yet finished,” Theonil ordered. The soldier gave a quick bow and ran, his armour and weapons clanging.

“What can they do?” Cradon whimpered.

Neornil gave a small smile. “Restore life!”

Cradon finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot and bleary. Neornil's words had brought some hope to the brother.

It took some time
to find them
, but eventually both the Aeon elves came to Nechan’s bedside.
Everyone stood aside, even the forlorn Cradon, allowing them through without questioning their proposed actions; time was a necessity.
Nymril and Githean both knew what
must be done. It was clear
to even the untrained eye, that
the boy was nearly dead, his breathing
so shallow his chest barely moved
.

Without words, they went to opposite sides of the cold body and gently laid their hands upon his chest. Together, they began chanting quiet words, almost inaudible, their eyes tightly closed.

Nothing happened at first. Then, steadily, a white glow began to shine beneath their hands. Gaular
was forced to
restrain Cradon, as Nechan’s chest and back arched up violently. His whole body began to glow, the light emanating from under his skin.
It looked painful, yet, Nechan remained unresponsive.
 

The Aeon elves stopped chanting, and opened their eyes wide, as if with a sudden shock of pain.
Nymril's hands scrunched up the bed linen to prevent herself crying out.
The onlookers all took a step back as the elvish etchings on their skin sparkled with life. The three bodies,
two elves and one clansman,
now linked by the power of the Aeonorgal, convulsed as one.

Just as quickly as it started, it was over. Nymril and Githean released their hold and fell back on their knees, panting as they tried to catch their breath. Each looked drained.
Around them, the elders and friends stop in silent anticipation.
 

Nechan’s body
had
returned to its previous position,
almost as if nothing had happened
. A warm, gentle breeze passed through the small gathering, carrying with it the faint scent of golden spring flowers.
Each person turned into the breeze, almost healing in nature, letting it caress their faces.
It brought a warn, soothing sensation to the body and mind.
 

The moment Nechan suddenly gasped for air, his eyes flicking open, Cradon almost screamed with delight and relief. To Nechan, unaware of what had happened, he felt as if he had been submerged under deep water for too long. He sat up, feeling his body as if in disbelief that he was still alive and in one piece, yet something at the core of him felt very different.
Steadying himself with one hand behind him, he pressed his other to his chest, as if grateful he could feel his heart beating.
His brother fell at his bedside, laughing and crying all at once.
Nechan, still sucking in huge lungfuls, smiled as his brother held him tight.
 

“Be still, Nechan. Calm your fears. All will become clear with time.” Nymril’s voice was calm and soothing as she gently stroked Nechan’s hand. He looked at her,
still resting a tired head on his brothers shoulder
and
seemed to
receive a moment of clarity. She smiled and nodded.

“We three are as one now, Nechan,” stated Githean, understanding exactly what both Nymril and Nechan sensed.

It had not been the
two elves
that had saved Nechan, but the power of their Earth Spirits. Linked as one by the Aeonorgal, they had shared their life energy with the boy’s, renewing him, and bringing him back from the brink of death. They would forever be linked on a different plan
e
of existence.
Nechan
was now
and would remain
part Aeon.

“So what will happen now?” Nechan asked, as he walked alongside Nymril.

There was the pleasing sound of babbling water coming from somewhere, mixed with the pleasant harmony of wind singing through trees around them.
The new layer of leaf litter crunched under foot.
Several weeks had passed
since their much needed
return to Loreandril. Spring had come quickly; as if the Empire’s lands were eager to find new life, casting out the old oppression.

Nechan was now fully recovered,
although it had taken several days before he had even the energy to leave his bed
.
Cradon had barely left his side, Nechan usually finding him sleeping slumped in the chair beside him.
The only evidence of his ordeal was the faint silver markings on his skin which he would bear the rest of his life; they were destined to set him apart from the rest of the mankind. Hidden beneath his clothing he retained the Aeonthel, which felt even more a part of him as it ever had before.

Nechan was still struggling to come to terms with all that had happened to him, but Nymril and Githean had spent much time with him, helping him understand about Earth Magic and his new bond with the Aeonorgal.
Even though it was all new to him, within his soul it seemed as if it had always been a part of him. Nymril said it was because
this was his destiny.