The Lord Of Lightning (Book 3) (39 page)

After disembarking at the new port city on the eastern shore of the Reian Sea, the elf rode furiously to the east through the Western Meadowlands. Ronenth and Hetwing had to leave most of their guard and royal retinue behind to keep up.

In the late afternoon they rounded the Black Mountains of Kipleth and rode hard to the north across what was once called the Wastes of Yonne, but was now a verdant farmland, as indeed almost every corner of Wealdland was becoming beautifully cultivated farmland.

As the sun began to set, they saw the black line of a city under construction, New Ethgeow.

Athelings and warriors immediately recognized the King and Queen of Reia and the elf, and fell into a ridiculously rapid pageant stampeding through the Wastes to the city being rebuilt.

King Arnwylf met them at the outskirts of the city. Arnwylf now had a dark blonde beard, and had added a few pounds of husky muscle to his tall, lean frame. Arnwylf held his arms high to welcome his friends, a great grin on his face.

"My dear, dear, DEAR friends!" Arnwylf bellowed as the elf pulled up on her horse. She leapt off her beast and, still cradling little Mót, gripped Arnwylf's arms and stared into his eyes.

"What is it? What is it?" Arnwylf pleasantly smiled.

"She did the same to me," Hetwing said, out of breath. "Perhaps it's a new elf way of greeting."

"Where is Frea?" Iounelle asked without affection.

"She's overseeing the moving of the stones," Arnwylf said, suddenly confused. Then a great smile broke on his face. "We're using the stones of the old fortress that was uncovered from the ice field, the fortress that Ravensdred was hiding in? Frea likes to supervise the moving of the stones. They've really been able to move quite a bit of stone under her supervision."

"I see," Iounelle said with a suddenly dark look on her face. "When is Frea due back?"

"Any moment now," Arnwylf said with a smile that was fading. "Is there something that troubles you?" Arnwylf asked Iounelle.

Then, the elf let the shadow fall from her countenance. "My dear Arnwylf," the elf said with a friendly smile. "It is so, so good to see your face. Welcome us into your home."

"You must come and see my son!" Arnwylf said with a slap on the back to Ronenth, as they headed for the center of the city and the royal residence. "We have named him 'Marenth' after your father."

Ronenth laughed heartily. "We've just had a girl, and named her 'Miri' after Frea's grandmother!"

The elf stopped and faced Hetwing. "How long ago did you give birth?" The elf asked.

"A little less than a moonth ago," Hetwing said with a pale smile. "I thought you knew."

"Oh, Wylkeho Daniei!" The elf exclaimed. "I am so sorry! I would never have pushed the travel so hard had I known. And we traveled with the newborn!" Iounelle was ashamed.

"I wanted to surprise you," Ronenth frowned, "but you slept through the feast in your honor."

"I have been a beast," Iounelle said downcast.

"Let me show you to your room right away, so you can rest," Arnwylf said to Hetwing as they arrived at a large stone hall that was the royal palace. All about New Ethgeow was wooden scaffolding, as the new, stone city was being raised.

After Hetwing was shown to her room and made comfortable, Arnwylf turned to Iounelle. "Now what is this all about?" He demanded. "If there is evil about you can count on my sword to be right at your side."

"And mine," Ronenth exclaimed, not to be outdone by his old rival.

"All will be told once Frea returns," Iounelle said. "In the meantime, can I have a wet nurse for little Mót? He has been a very good boy on this difficult trip, and I'm sure he will be hungry."

"He's getting to be so big," Arnwylf said, hefting the child, who immediately began crying once out of the elf's hands.

Mót was taken away to a wet nurse, and the three friends walked out to greet Frea.

"I was thinking of rebuilding the city of Glafemen," Ronenth said to Arnwylf as they walked.

Arnwylf laughed a hearty laugh and slapped Ronenth on the back. "I've already set aside the resources, and await only your plans. When the people of Man heard what I planned, you should have seen the pledging of labor and materials to see Glafemen restored, my friend. I sat down in the street and wept, so great was their desire to see your city reborn."

"Is it true," Ronenth asked, suddenly serious, scanning the horizon and the receding ice field far away in the north, "that some of the ghaunts got away?"

"A few were seen headed for the ice fields," Arnwylf frowned. "I really don't know if they can survive up there. But, we'll be on our guard if any turn up."

In the distance, along a dusty road, a team of many men drove horses and aurochs pulling huge carts laden with colossal, grey stones. At their head, astride a large, red mare, Frea led the construction team.

When Frea could recognize the elf and Ronenth from a distance, she spurred her horse to greet her guests. Frea leapt from her horse and embraced the elf and Ronenth. 

"My dear friends!" Frea exclaimed. "What a great surprise!" Frea's eyes were red rimmed, with dark circles underneath. She seemed thin and worn out. Everything about her seemed stretched and fragile. Yet she was filled with a nervous strength and boundless energy.

The elf knew at once, but said nothing.

A great feast was arraigned. The people of Man were constantly fawning over Ronenth. The glaf finally leaned over to Arnwylf at the banquet table and said in Arnwylf's ear, "I must tell Yulenth to come and visit, the guilt of the people of Man is such that they will treat him like a god." The two friends chuckled together.

Frea and Hetwing compared their infant children. Frea cooed at Hetwing and Ronenth's daughter, Miri. And, Hetwing hefted Arnwylf and Frea's boisterous baby boy, Marenth.

As the night's festivities wore on, Iounelle took an opportune moment to whisper in Frea's ear, "I know. See me alone."

"I see you've kept Bravilc for yourself," young King Arnwylf called to the elf through the noise of the feast. "I wish we could have kept just a few elvish blades."

Iounelle just smiled.

"Did she let you keep your paricale?" Arnwylf loudly asked Ronenth above the din of the party. Ronenth just smiled. "No?" Arnwylf assumed, and then merrily chewed a large chicken leg. "Too bad. Perhaps it's best that all these magical things go. There hasn't been a sign of anything of magic in all of Wealdland but you, elf. Even the Kaprk-Uusshu haven't been sighted since the Battle of Syrenf. Perhaps they're out in the Mere of Lanis chasing down the last of the vyreeoten. Those who are now farming the Far Grasslands say they haven't seen a single garond." Then Arnwylf was quiet, and seemed to lose his appetite, for this greatly troubled him. The noise and fervor of the party seemed to not lift the hearts of any of the royalty or their guests.

Eventually the raucous feast was ended with all stumbling off to their beds at the early morning hours.

Frea rose up in bed with a start to see the elf standing over her in the dark.

"Interesting how you avoided me at the end of the feast," the elf quietly said.

Arnwylf was loudly snoring. Frea got out of bed and led Iounelle to an adjoining room.

"What do you mean by-"

"Stop at once," Iounelle said in a flat menacing voice. "I am tired, tired of human lies, intrigue, and evasion."

Frea was silent, and started to quietly cry.

"I did no harm with it," Frea softly sobbed.

"It was never meant for any human," Iounelle said without sympathy. "So you have only used it to make the stones lighter. You've not hurt anyone. Yet. But, in time, you would. And, who knows what damage you have already done to your own soul."

Frea pulled the Ar out from under her bed clothes and held it out to the elf.

"You know I cannot take it," the elf said. "That activates its power. How did you manage it?"

"I gave it to a Lady in Waiting to show her," Frea quietly said with shame, "then I immediately turned her hand, so that it fell back into my hand. In essence, making her give it back to me, before she realized what she held."

Frea set the black stone down on a wooden table. The elf pulled out a piece of cloth from her belt, and lightly took the Ar without touching its surface. "You and Wynnfrith," Iounelle said, "as your tale goes, were giving the Heart of the Earth, back and forth, to each other during your fugitive days in the Far Grasslands. You did not know it of course, but you generated a powerful charge that the Dark One used to tame the Heaven's Key. I wonder if he knew all along, and let you live at that time for that very reason. No matter, this belongs with the garond race. It has always been their responsibility. I only hope there is still a garond left alive to look after this powerful stone."

"But why then," Frea asked, wiping her tears, "did the Garond Mother give it to Wynnfrith?"

"I think," the elf said looking down at the Ar nestled in the cloth she held, "the Garond Mother knew the horror that would ensue if the Yarta fell into the hands of Mudsang, or worse still, Ravensdred. He might have rivaled Deifol Hroth if he got his evil paws on the Heart of the Earth. Can you imagine the damage he could have wrought, mountains thrown down, a plague of volcanoes, the earth torn asunder?"

"Please take it away," Frea said as color came back to her cheeks and her eyes cleared. "Take it far away."

"It no longer a has hold of you," Iounelle smiled, but the weight of the Yarta was now visible on the elf's face. "And now the flavor of the magic is sour to you. My dear Frea, I am glad I came in time. I knew one of you, the day we buried Wynnfrith and Derragen at Bittel, had the Ar, but I didn't know who, or what they intended with the stone. So I had to be careful. And... my grief at that time was too fresh and filled all my heart." A single tear rolled down Iounelle's cheek, and she turned away to hide her grief from Frea.

Frea affectionately threw her arms around the elf. "Thank you, thank you," Frea quietly cried.

"And now," Iounelle said as they drew apart, "I must see if I can find a garond."

Chapter Twenty

The Last Task and the Hidden Hand

Iounelle stood on the eastern edge of the Far Grasslands. The waving sea of grass behind her was now full of human farmers. Some stretches were desolate, but most of the vast plain was quickly becoming cultivated. And now the elf, with Mót, almost three years old, strapped to her back, faced the Snowcloak Mountains, sharp edged, towering peaks that divided the Far Grasslands from the Easternlands.

She had not found any garonds. They had all gone with Ravensdred for the invasion. Any natural garond, untainted by Deifol Hroth's religion had migrated further east, so it was said.

Although she had not activated its power when she took it from Frea, Iounelle, the last elf, could feel the Yarta, the Heart of the Earth, vibrating in a small, double thick, cloth pouch she had made especially for the Ar.

She had no desire to even touch the surface of the stone. She was sick of objects with magical power. Except for her brother's sword, Bravilc, the Burning Sword, which she didn't even know how to activate, she now thought the world would be much safer without any object filled with dangerous, eldritch energy in it.

Iounelle spent several days moving through the mountains, staying to the lower valleys, searching for any signs of habitation, and possible signs of garonds. The steep blue and white cliffs and quiet mountain pastures were beautiful, but did nothing to soothe the ache in Iounelle's heart. A pain she was not yet ready to face.

One day, three summers after the Battle of Syrenf, Iounelle's sensitive ears caught the sound of an animal stealthily stalking her. Iounelle casually moved up a slope and then quickly curved back to see what was following her. She drew Bravilc.

The summer sun cascaded through the cover of the forest like golden spears. In the heavy brush and shrub of the Eastern Forests, a deer with a long neck stepped through the undergrowth. The neck of the hind was just a little too long to be natural.

"Baalenruud!" Iounelle shouted at the animal, which startled and nearly bolted.

"Why do you stalk me, aesir?" Iounelle challenged.

The hind looked as though it were deciding whether to run or not. Then the deer shimmered and its body shook as the aesir transformed to its second body. Baalenruud in her communication form looked like an old, naked, crippled man with wiry white hair, an immensely large nose, and a brushy white mustache.

"Don't kill me, elf!" Baalenruud pled, holding up his gnarled hands. "Look at these bodies. Both are useless."

"You know how I feel about you," Iounelle said, slowly advancing. Mót, strapped to Iounelle's back happily gurgled at the sound of the angry exchange.

"I can help you!" Baalenruud begged. "Whatever you seek I can find for you."

"You know many things of age," Iounelle admitted. "And you have lived many and varied lives."

"I have seen all but the First Age," Baalenruud said with pride. "I know where all the beings of power hide. If you seek a new Dark Enemy I could aid you. And, I know of hidden weapons, ancient and powerful. Some could be very effective in the hands of an elf."

"It was you," Iounelle said with sudden realization. "You found the Ulokem Swogger for Ravensdred."

"I'm good at finding things," Baalenruud said with an apologetic smile. "What happened to the 'Terrible Death'?"

"Yulenth, the glaf, destroyed it," Iounelle said inching closer. "It took a tremendous fire in his forge that nearly burned down all of New Rogar Li."

"Shame," Baalenruud said. "It was a useful device."

"Useful for killing innocents!" Iounelle yelled as she leapt at Baalenruud, swinging Bravilc.

In a flash, Baalenruud transformed and bounded away in hind form. She stopped, turned and looked at the elf. "I never meant you any harm," Baalenruud said. "I was only protecting myself, when your parents attacked me. I will make you forgive me one day, elf." Baalenruud seemed genuinely conflicted. Then he turned his large deer eyes to Iounelle. "Or, I will destroy you." With that, Baalenruud leapt through the thick forest until there was no sign of the aesir.

Iounelle listened for a long time, but Baalenruud was gone.

The elf moved further and further east. Humans became less and less friendly, and so the elf bought and wore a hat to hide her ears. With a good sized hat, Iounelle looked like any other human woman. Any brigand or robber she encountered soon got a broken arm, a kick up the behind, and was sent on his unhappy way.

Even further east, the lightly wooded plains flowed into rolling hills filled with quiet farms. Iounelle avoided the larger villages, and main thoroughfares. Rivers were usually easy to cross, although she did encounter one river that was so wide, the elf had to find a ferryman to get across. The animals of this area were similar, but different. Once, Iounelle noticed a pack of wolves silently moving through the darker part of a thickly wooded pine forest. The wolves were smaller than those of the Weald, and more nervous. The elf thought it best to avoid them.

Autumn was setting in as the elf continued her search for even one garond. The nights were cold, and she bundled little Mót close to her body to keep him warm when they slept. The boy child was old enough to eat solid food, which was a relief. But he was a growing burden as he got larger and larger by the moonth.

One warm autumn night Iounelle lay little Mót down to sleep in a snug bundle. She lay down next to the child. She stared up at the black branches silhouetted against the sky, and listened to the night sounds. There was no human near for hundreds of leagues. Every animal walking by, searching in the dark was readily identifiable to Iounelle, bear, boar, ferret. The smells of leaves and flowers finishing their life cycle were pungent and pleasing. Iounelle closed her eyes and dreamt.

She was in Lanis Rhyl Landemiriam. The city was as she discovered it once she and the Archer had driven Deifol Hroth and his garond army out. It was in the winter, two years ago, and dirty snow covered every surface. Iounelle looked about, perhaps she would dream of Derragen. Feelings of eager happiness, mixed with tormented sadness, filled her breast. She heard something almost like sniffing, but knew it was the sound of soft, gentle weeping. Iounelle followed the sound.

She came upon Morinnthe Stoneface Wendralorn, long gone to the gray ships, sitting amongst the rubble of their city.

"Dantefa dantefa dante'ornl! " Iounelle cried.

"Oh great granddaughter," Morinnthe said in Miranei through the tears he held back. "This is what is to become of our beautiful city?"

Iounelle couldn't answer. She sat down next to Morinnthe.

"We did it," she quietly said in Miranei, staring straight ahead. "We killed the Lord of Lightning."

"I am very glad," Morinnthe said, his eyes also straight ahead, no joy in his voice, imagining the terrible cost of the victory.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Iounelle softly said.

Morinnthe smiled. "So bright. I told your parents you were so very bright. Yes, it was me."

"You pushed and moved quietly in the shadows and in dreams. It was you who gathered the humans in Bittel."

"He could see right into anyone's mind," Morinnthe said with a tinge of regret. "And many humans and garonds he could control simply with his will. Once we realized that, we knew we could never win. We had to plan in a place He could never see... the Dream World. He doesn't dream. He never could."

"And you planted the elven blood line in the humans."

"No! Oh, no!" Morinnthe said aghast. "What a monstrous idea! No, the blood of the Children of Light was introduced into the human race long before my time, by a force greater than any we could control, Love." Morinnthe's eyes sparkled. "About the time of the Elf Human Wars, an elf female married a human royal of the Wylfling Tribe."

"Whinnappalle," Iounelle said.

"Yes," Morinnthe said with a smile at Iounelle's intelligence. "That was the elven blood among the Wylfling Tribe. And, a male elf, whose name I can't recall at present, married and took to wife a female human of the Skyld Tribe. They lived in the northern islands, Fjindel, I believe the humans call them."

"And my brother Albehthaire," Iounelle said, struck with the sudden thought. "He knew. He was in on your plan. That was why he gave his life to prevent me from being included in the attack against our city."

Morinnthe nodded his head in silence. "You had to live," Morinnthe said with an emotion akin to shame. "We knew you would be the one to kill Deifol Hroth. No matter what, you had to live."

"But how could you be certain that I would be so important?"

"Silfliette."

"My Great Aunt," Iounelle said with growing understanding, "the greatest heid that ever lived. But if she could see the future so clearly, why didn't she warn the others, save the other elves when the garond army attacked Lanis Rhyl Landemiriam?"

"Most things are merely possibilities," Morinnthe sadly smiled, "but some things are certainties. We strive against the dark possibilities, the certainties we waste no energy fighting against."

"And a heid can tell the difference?"

"So she said."

"It is over," Iounelle said with a resolute smile, and stood. 

Morinnthe said nothing, but cocked his head sideways, and gave Iounelle a look filled with both mystery and pride.

"It is over," Iounelle said again, "isn't it?"

Morinnthe stood and faced Iounelle as though he had something very important to say. Before he could speak, Iounelle woke to the cries of little Mót.

Iounelle picked up Mót to quiet his wailing. After the boy was once again slumbering, Iounelle willed herself to sleep again. But, no other dreams came that night.

In late autumn, ranging more to the north, the elf left the rolling hills to discover another grassy plain with grazing animals. There were almost no trees. The few trees that did grow were usually scrawny, wind-twisted affairs. Although the grass of this strange steppe wasn't as lush and tall as the Far Grasslands, and the animals not as plentiful, it looked like just the kind of land a garond would cherish and a human avoid.

Having left any human far behind, the elf began to talk to little Mót, even though the human child was still but a toddler. "What do you think?" Iounelle said over her shoulder to the human boy. "This looks promising. Look there! What is that!?" The elf crouched down.

A large, hairy beast lumbered on the horizon. The elf quickly, quietly closed the distance to see that the beast was enormously large, terribly shaggy with thick, light brown hair, and had a shockingly long nose with which it cropped the grass of the steppe. Iounelle felt far enough away to speak to the animal. "Hallo!" Iounelle called to the Long Nose in as friendly a way that she could. "May I speak to you, please?"

The Long Nose, curious, lumbered near, and the elf began to get frightened.

"That's close enough!" The elf called.

"You called to me," the Long Nose indignantly said with a deeply nasal and aspirated voice.

"I am afraid of you," Iounelle honestly said.

"You afraid of me?" The Long Nose snorted in derision. "You look just like one of the hairy things that are always killing my kin. Although," the Long Nose squinted, "you don't appear to be very hairy at all."

"They must be garonds," the elf said to herself.

"What is a... garond?" The curious Long Nose snorted. "Is that what you call those Hairy Two Feet?"

"It isn't important," Iounelle said. "Can you tell me where I might find these... Hairy Two Feet?"

"It may not be important to you," the Long Nose sniffed, "but it's very important to me. They are the ones that kill and eat my kind. Very gruesome."

"Perhaps if you could tell me in which direction to go," Iounelle said, growing impatient with the ponderous animal, "I could convince them to stop eating your kin."

"You would do that? Because the-"

"I assure you!" Iounelle interrupted. "Which way, please?"

"They were last seen moving in that direction," the Long Nose swung its enormous trunk, pointing due east.

"Thank you," Iounelle said, moving on. "I will keep my promise."

"See that you do," the Long Nose went on. Iounelle could hear the Long Nose continuing its harangue, even though Iounelle was now far away.

The sky was overcast and it looked like it might rain. The sun went down and it was very dark without moon or stars to light the way. Iounelle saw a dark form in the distance. Perhaps this was a garond. Iounelle quickened her pace, her heart hoping.

"What are doing, coming from that direction?" The Long Nose said. "I said go that way." The Long Nose swung its hairy trunk again to indicate the way Iounelle should go.

"I've walked in a circle," Iounelle said to herself. "Without sun, moon, or stars to guide me, I have no way of knowing the right way to go."

"Weather will stay like this until the warm days," the Long Nose said sorrowfully. "It will get very cold, lots of snow. You have no hair. You will most likely die."