The Archer From Kipleth (Book 2) (15 page)

“Arnwylf!” She cried, and then she bodily dragged her son back inside, with Garmee Gamee trailing after them.

Inside the library, Wynnfrith slammed shut the huge oak door and bolted it.

Wynnfrith froze when she saw the wound running from just above Arnwylf’s eyes, across the top of his nose and running down his right cheek. Tears of horror and sorrow ran down Wynnfrith’s face. She softly touched the still scabbing cut. She shook her head in quiet pain, knowing her little boy’s countenance was marred forever.

“My son!” Wynnfrith cried, and hugged and kissed Arnwylf until he was thoroughly embarrassed. The black cloud that perpetually shadowed Wynnfrith momentarily lifted.

“What is this about Summeninquis pressuring you to marry him?” Arnwylf sharply asked.

“He is insistent. He hopes to gain the throne of the Weald through my hand,” Wynnfrith meekly said. “But, I feel as though Kellabald is still my husband.”

Arnwylf turned red with fury and couldn’t speak. All he could do was quietly clench his jaw.

“Oh, that Judge is in for trouble,” Garmee Gamee said shaking her head.

Wynnfrith turned. “Oh, you are here, Garmee Gamee,” she said with unveiled disdain.

“I am here to support you, Princess Wynnfrith,” Garmee Gamee said with a quick, hypocritical curtsey.

“Is Frea here?” Arnwylf quietly asked.

“I think Ronenth is here, too,” Garmee Gamee chirped.

A group of people turned a corner in the library, talking with high spirits. Arnwylf immediately recognized Yulenth and Solienth talking to a man, woman and child who seemed vaguely familiar.

“Arnwylf!” The young boy cried and ran to embrace him.

“Faw?” Arnwylf incredulously said. Then turned to place the other two. “Annen, Len?”

“Arnwylf, how are you?” Len said with cheer.

“These are the three who helped me in Harvestley,” Arnwylf said with great pleasure, to his mother. “You seem to be a family now.”

“We are,” Annen said. “We three lost all our loved ones in the raids of the Madrun Hills. We just naturally became a family after our great adventure.”

“You saved my life,” Arnwylf said to Faw. “You seem so big. How many summers are you now?”

“I’m almost nine,” Faw said, drawing himself up as tall as he could.

“I thought it was magic,” Arnwylf said to Yulenth and Wynnfrith. “But it was Faw who bravely put the sword in my hand when I was fighting, and losing, against the garond Deepscar.” Faw blushed and lowered his head.

“Where in New Rogar Li do you live?” Arnwylf asked.

“We live here in the library,” Annen said with embarrassment.

“But only because we are going back to the Madrun Hills,” Len said. “We are going to fight the garonds hill by hill, creek by creek, until we have our home free and clean of garonds.”

“It seems the library is fast becoming the shelter for all the strays,” Solienth said with a grin.

“Then I should stay here,” Arnwylf said with a smile, “and all my soldiers, as well.”

“We certainly have the room,” Yulenth said with a laugh, “although old Nostacarr, the Master of the Library will have a fit.” Then Yulenth grabbed Arnwylf and hugged him tight. “How are you, my boy?” He affectionately asked.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Arnwylf said, and for just a moment he seemed like once again he was the boy who laughed and played in the hidden village of Bittel. Then he turned to Len and Annen. “When do you leave for the Madrun Hills?”

“Tomorrow,” Annen said.

“Excellent,” Arnwylf smiled. “I invite you to join us for dinner tonight at the home of my grandmother, Alrhett.”

“It would be an honor,” Len said.

Suddenly, voices raised in anger rang through the empty library.

“If you don’t apologize, you moping weakling,” Frea’s voice echoed angrily, “I will wring it from you!”

“Get out, Princess of Man!” Ronenth’s voice rang. “Go back to your nation of thieves, murderers and traitors, you piece of ice!”

The sounds of struggle set Arnwylf, Wynnfrith, Yulenth and Solienth at run to find the brawling teens.

Arnwylf searched through the empty rows, following the sounds of fighting.

“Do not suppose I won’t-” Ronenth’s voice boomed through the library, and the sound of furniture being overturned resounded through the empty chambers of the library..

Arnwylf turned a corner to find Frea on top of Ronenth, raining down blows.

“Stop! Stop!” Arnwylf shouted.

Ronenth turned his hips and threw Frea off. He leapt to his feet and violently grabbed Frea.

Arnwylf jumped and grabbed Ronenth before he struck Frea. And, Frea used the intervention to thump Ronenth square on the chin. Ronenth easily shrugged Arnwylf off with a surprising strength.

“Ronenth!” Yulenth sharply barked and stopped the youth from striking Frea. Frea backed up realizing she had gone too far, and the young Glaf was about to strike her with the full force of blind fury.

“Who was it that betrayed and killed Kellabald, you heartless girl?” Ronenth spit at Frea. “An atheling of Man! Who attacked Wynnfrith in Alfhich? A soldier of Man! If there is a traitor in New Rogar Li, your highness, it will most certainly be a citizen of the Northern Kingdom of Man!”

“That is enough!” Solienth shouted. “There is no evidence of a traitor. No evidence whatsoever!”

“Arnwylf?” Frea said, suddenly coming out of her mindless rage. Frea threw herself in his Arnwylf’s arms.

Arnwylf held Frea at arms length, and stared at her with strange eyes. “I have never known a single human from the Northern Kingdom of Man whom I could trust. It was the Kingdom of Man that evilly drove the Glafs nearly to extinction. It was the Kingdom of Man that gave the murderer Apghilis a high place of honor, and has yet to prosecute him for killing my father.”

Frea held very still. She shook with amazement. Then tears of anger filled her eyes. But instead of striking, she fled the library.

The silence in the great empty building was heart breaking. Arnwylf bowed his head, amazed at his own insensitivity, shocked at his cruel words to his beloved Frea.

“My good friend, Ronenth,” Arnwylf said recovering, and tried to hug his friend. But Ronenth shrugged Arnwylf off and stalked into the darkness of the library. He stopped as though he was going to say something to Arnwylf, his face filled with indescribable pain, but then he turned and sadly faded into the shadows cast by the flat, thin, winter light.

“What- What just happened?” Arnwylf, stunned, asked.

“There is a traitor in New Rogar Li,” Garmee Gamee said. “Someone has been passing information to the Dark Lord.”

“That has not been verified,” Solienth said with annoyance.

“It seemed as though the argument was about something else,” Arnwylf sadly said.

“Oh,” Garmee Gamee said, “Ronenth loves Frea, and he hates you because of it.”

“That is enough,” Yulenth sharply said. Garmee Gamee simply shook her bleached hair as though she was right and Yulenth was wrong.

“I must apologize to Frea at once,” Arnwylf said.

“Best to leave it for a day,” Garmee Gamee said.

“No,” Wynnfrith said. “Kellabald always said-” Then Wynnfrith fell to the marble floor of the library.

“Mother!” Arnwylf shouted and leapt to her side.

The farsight came to Wynnfrith strong and unrelenting.

It was as though she had been struck and the blow sent her higher and higher into the sky. She couldn’t breathe and her body was paralyzed with an overwhelming spasm. The earth was turning. She could see that the world was a ball, a sphere hanging in a vast blackness.

Then Wynnfrith began to flicker between different points of view, different episodes of life. She wasn’t sure if it was her life she was seeing or someone else’s, perhaps several people.

She was lost in a large house or mansion, tapestries covered every wall. The designs were elaborate, foreign, intricate. And, she knew many men were after her. They wanted to kill her. They had weapons that were small, but deadly. All she had was a sword. She had to get out of the mansion. She felt as though the walls were pushing in on her. She didn’t know which way to turn.

Then...

She was in a land far away. A man with extraordinarily dark skin was shouting at her. She thought he was angry, but then she realized he was trying to warn her to move, to jump. She turned her head to see thousands of massive, strange animals bearing down on her. The dust rose around their pounding hooves like the billowing, angry clouds of a spring thunderstorm.

Then...

She was surrounded by strange ships that landed from a sky, that was a dull, copper color. Everyone had tubes attached to their noses. There were packages and bundles. People were arriving and departing. Everything was metal and stone. She wasn’t even sure that she was on the earth anymore. There were two men looking at her as if they were expecting an answer. One man was tall, officious and thin. The other man was fat, slovenly, but jolly.

Then...

She was in the woods, but it was not Wealdland. The trees were skinny and numerous. She was out of breath from running. The world was about to end. There were three people with her and they were chasing another man. His face was shadowed, but she knew it was the Dark Lord, but it wasn’t. The man she was chasing moved in a sinewy, odd, twisting way. The three others screamed at her and pointed at the sky. She had that same sword in her hand again, but she didn’t know what to do with it. She had to do something, but she knew she couldn’t do it.

Then...

She saw the towering shadow again. It was just like the part of the vision she had at Rion Ta. The water seemed to pause at its highest point. Then, the incessant, continuing, unrelenting roaring of furious water.

Then...

She was in a hot land by a fragrant ocean. She was warm and comfortable. People wrapped in white fabrics slowly strolled on lazy errands. A small animal spoke to her. It looked like a wolf, but much smaller. She knew this person, this animal. This person who had become an animal. She couldn’t trust this person. This animal had caused her immense pain once, had killed someone she loved. She couldn’t bear to look at it.

Then...

She was standing behind the Dark Lord, and He stood before a gate. He was speaking to something beyond the gate, something hidden in the blackness. The thing beyond the gate was old, very old, and very dangerous. And Wynnfrith knew if the thing came through the gate, more than just the earth would be destroyed.

Then...

She was standing alone in a wide, wide expanse of grass. And Wynnfrith knew that this was her life. She was seeing her future. The sky was white and flat with winter clouds. It was only a few days from now. She was in the Far Grasslands. Then, she wasn’t alone. Frea was there. And a smiling male garond. And a female garond. Wynnfrith had never seen a female garond before. The female garond had seashells and colored grasses braided into its long, dark, red hair. She smiled and was gentle. She held out her hand. She had something to give to Wynnfrith. Something important. Wynnfrith took the thing, but she couldn’t see it. Someone was looking over her shoulder. It was Him. It was Deifol Hroth. He wasn’t there. But, He was there. He was in his own farsight, and the two obscured each other’s visions.

“Open your hand,” the Dark Lord of All Evil Magic said over her shoulder. “Let me see it.”

Wynnfrith clutched the small thing in both hands to her chest, and started running. She knew this thing was the most important thing in the world. It made the other things work. What other things? She didn’t understand, but she knew she had to run. She could feel His breath on her neck. She had to get this thing to her son. She ran, but her feet wouldn’t move. This thing was the Stone of the Earth. The elves called it many names, Yarta the Heart, was one of its names. Arnwylf had to have this thing to save the world, or there would be no world.

Then...

She saw what would happen if Deifol Hroth got the small thing she carried. She was floating in empty blackness. Everything was dead. The world had ended. All that existed was laughter, cruel, echoing laughter. Then the creature in darkness came through the gate.

Wynnfrith came out of the farsight with a start, staring up at Arnwylf’s face.

“Mother?” He tenderly asked, looking down. “A vision?”

Wynnfrith nodded. Arnwylf helped her sit up. Yulenth was nearby with a cup of water.

“I saw,” Wynnfrith started, “I saw what I must do. I must go to the Far Grasslands.”

The others began to noisily object. Wynnfrith held up her hand.

“I must go and get a... thing,” Wynnfrith said. “I don’t even know what it is, but without it, all is lost. And He has seen it. He was in my farsight once again. Deifol Hroth knows of this... thing. We have to- we must get it before he does, or everything now alive will die.”

“I will help you,” Yulenth plainly said.

“But this is nonsense,” Solienth huffed. “How can you even-”

“I have seen Wynnfrith have visions before,” Yulenth strongly said. “And what she sees, comes to pass. If she must go to the Far Grasslands, into the heart of the garond army, then she must go.”