The Archer From Kipleth (Book 2) (30 page)

The Archer turned to see Halldora greet him with relief. Derragen looked around with confusion. It was nearly sunset.

“I was in the mist for only a moment,” the Archer said.

“You’ve been gone all day,” Iounelle said touching his cheek. “I thought-” Then, the elf blushed, and was unable to speak.

“Good to see you!” Geleiden said to cover the elf’s embarrassment.

“And Halldora is here?” The Archer said with confusion.

“I was stranded, alone on the northern bank of the Bairn River when New Rogar Li was evacuated,” Halldora said. “I came upon Geleiden and Husvet leading Conniker and the wolves west to a crossing at a shallower part of the Bairn.”

“Stavolebe?” The Archer asked.

“Still in the citadel,” the elf said.

“Right under our nose,” the Archer said with frustration. “He was right under our nose.”

“He won’t get far when he comes out,” Husvet said with a firm smile as he patted his new wolf, Farren, who suddenly bristled.

Every wolf suddenly faced west.

“What is it?” Geleiden wondered.

“What is in that direction?” Derragen asked.

“There is a river, the Syrenf River,” the elf answered. “The wolves are saying ‘bad things’ once again.”

“That’s what they said-” Husvet started.

“-when they smelled the vyreeoten in the Weald,” Geleiden finished.

The wolves further to the west pulled back to join the main body of wolves in a tight pack surrounding the humans.

Two dripping wet vyreeoten squirmed out of the woods. One was yellow and large.

“Hellooo agaaaain whiiiite thiiiing,” Klaaug lisped in greeting to Conniker, who growled deep and low.

“Metal swords will not work on these things,” Halldora breathlessly said.

“We have already discovered that,” the elf answered.

“Oh aaand the reeeed haaair,” Klaaug hissed at Halldora, pointing a sickly, sinewy arm.

“Go back to the hell you’ve come from,” she cried to the rippling creatures.

“Spread the wolves out,” a voice hissed from behind. Baalenruud coiled as a large black adder. “The wolves can kill them, and they know it.”

“Why should we trust you Baalenruud?” The elf snarled.

“Ask the white wolf,” Baalenruud hissed, watching the vyreeoten with a blood lust.

Conniker looked up at the elf. He had already understood and quickly barked out an order to his pack. The thirty wolves skittishly, against their nature, spread out in a semicircle around the vyreeoten, heads low. The sun set.

“Nooooo tiiime to plaaaaaay,” Klaaug drooled with slime. “Myyy maaaaster caaalls.” Both vyreeoten quickly slithered into the foul mist protecting the citadel.

“Cowards,” Baalenruud lisped, his massive black coils itching for a fight.

“Assume your other form,” the elf commanded. “You are unnerving the wolves.”

Baalenruud shimmered and pulsed. Her body transformed into a short, naked, featureless woman.

“Ugly in any form,” the elf sneered.

“Such ingratitude,” Baalenruud lisped. “I just saved your life.”

Iounelle had no response, but she stared hard at Baalenruud.

“We need to set up a perimeter to catch Stavolebe when he comes out, before it gets too dark,” the Archer said to the elf.

“Unless you can lead us through the mist,” the elf angrily said to Baalenruud.

“I no ally to the Dark Lord,” Baalenruud sniffed.

A huge spear of blue lightning burst up and out of the mist, arcing out through the darkening sky. The blue fire crackled, and even though a league away, they could feel the heat of the pulse of energy.

“Deifol Hroth moves,” Baalenruud hissed.

Stavolebe wandered in the mist. Garonds would grab at him and gibber with delight at his fear.

Eventually Stavolebe made his way to a stone portal into the citadel. He knew the dark winding corridors. A large garond covered with large, porcupine-like spines blocked his way. The garond grunted at Stavolebe. He didn’t understand garondish, but he knew he was being commanded to wait.

Stavolebe sat down in the dank, shadowed corridor.

He waited for what seemed an eternity.

He thought he heard something very large squish past in a nearby corridor. Then he heard the sound of another large unnamable creature squelching past. Or was it another part of the same huge obscenity?

Just when Stavolebe was about to turn back and risk getting past the Archer and the elf, the spiny garond guard grunted and urged him to ascend the stone steps up to the highest chamber, the chamber of Deifol Hroth.

In the center of the room Deifol Hroth held a crystalline object, the Lhalíi, with his newly restored hand. Against a wall leaned a beautiful sword that had to be the Mattear Gram.

“Now is the time, Stavolebe,” Deifol Hroth said with a dark smile. “Now is the time to stop a most annoying vermin.”

A blue light filled the chamber. Stavolebe fell to the floor in fear. A blue fire leapt from every corner of the chamber. Stavolebe held up his hands, and they curled with blue fire, but he was not burned.

“Reach out to my mind” Deifol Hroth commanded.

Stavolebe felt his thoughts being swept up into the Dark Lord’s mind as effortlessly as a leaf drifting down a stream.

The fire flowed out of the chamber. Stavolebe could see the chamber had no ceiling and the blue fire flowed out and up into the sky.

Stavolebe’s mind flowed with the fire, out across the black, night sky.

There was a woman, far away, a woman with dark hair and blue eyes. And she could see the Dark Lord’s mind. She was the one who interfered. The blue fire was from the Lhalíi. In his mind, Stavolebe flew with the bolt of energy out over the Bight of Lanis. The massive spear of blue flame hit her. She was far away in the Far Grasslands. Stavolebe could see that she was surrounded by garonds.

She had a power. She had the power of farsight. She clouded  Deifol Hroth’s vision.

Her power was drawn up into the blue fire. It was drawn into the Lhalíi. The shock of the power being pulled into the large crystal was painful to Stavolebe. He clutched his head in pain.

Then all was calm as Stavolebe fainted away into unconsciousness.

Chapter Nineteen

No Return

Ronenth stole out of New Rogar Li just before dawn, and as far as Nostacarr could tell, had escaped without incident. It had taken all night to convince the young Glaf to escape, but finally he left.

The old Master of the Library held a candle in one hand and wrapped the other arm around the cold form of Solienth, who had died just before the dawn crept up from the east.

Nostacarr heard a slow persistent cracking of something pushing through one of the barred doors. Then there was a loud crash as the door came down. Nostacarr could hear something large slide into the library. He saw undulating shadows rippling through the dawn light streaming through the windows of the library.

Nostacarr thought of all his old books. The library of Old Rogar Li had been the envy of every librarian in Wealdland.

A large, blue and green vyreeoten slithered up in front of Nostacarr. It’s nauseating mandibles worked with hunger. Another vyreeoten slide up behind it.

“My only regret,” Nostacarr said, “is that there aren’t more books for you.”

Then the old Master of the Library laid the candle he held down onto a pool of liquid at his feet. Instantly a line of fire split into many lines that raced out into all the parts of the library.  Nostacarr pulled a cord, and a long line crashed a balanced shelf down against the front door. 

The vyreeoten screamed.

Their long, slimy bodies caught fire with a shocking rapidity. They thrashed about trying to put out the quickly growing fire. They rolled on the wooden floors, crashing into empty, burning bookshelves, spreading the fire. They futilely beat their long sinewy arms against their charring, cracking bodies.

One by one, they dropped to the floor, greasy mounds of flame and black burnt flesh.

There were six of the ghastly creatures that died gruesome deaths by fire.

Nostacarr smiled as the rest of the library went up in flames.

Arnwylf climbed and walked all night. With the dawn, he entered the growing human army in Harvestley. The great push was on to get as many human soldiers across the Flume of Gawry as quickly as possible. The word from the messenger guild was that the garond army in Byland was growing by the moment.

Many soldiers immediately recognized Arnwylf, and a happy group escorted him to Caerlund’s contingent.

The Chieftain of the Madrun Hills slapped a bear hug on the boy, and he had a messenger go fetch Alrhett.

A growing murmur in the army turned every head to the north to watch the rising line of smoke from New Rogar Li reaching up to the brightening dawn.

Alrhett ran up to Caerlund’s camp and hugged Arnwylf until he was out of breath. Arnwylf told all his adventures since running into the Weald, and Alrhett told Arnwylf all she knew of Halldora, Frea, the Archer, the elf, and his mother Wynnfrith.

Caerlund carefully put his hand on Arnwylf’s shoulder.

“Will you lead the human armies? They will follow you, as they followed your father,” Caerlund said.

“I have a great desire to fight for my land and kin,” Arnwylf said. “But, I think you should lead us, Caerlund. I still have many questions in my mind, and I fear if I am distracted for even an instant, it may mean the lives of those I would command.”

Caerlund looked at Arnwylf or a long moment.

“I understand,” he finally said with resignation. “Will you  command the soldiers who followed you in the north?”

“I will follow your orders,” Arnwylf said with a humble smile.

“It looks like a fire in New Rogar Li,” Alrhett said turning to scan the line of smoke ascending on the northern horizon.

“Every land and person will soon be so tested,” Caerlund said with a frown.

Wynnfrith pulled Garmee Gamee along the dead, brown, whipping grass. Frea was slightly ahead, scanning the Far Grassland for any sign of garond soldiers. The three women had been running all night.

All was quiet and still. The whole garond army had moved north in the night.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to get to the secret caves,” Frea said. “Every garond in the world will be choking Byland now.”

“Let me sit down for just a little bit,” Garmee Gamee whined.

“We should go around the army,” Wynnfrith said, pulling Garmee Gamee along. “We should try to find a boat to cross the Great Lake of Ettonne.”

“Have you seen that we will do that?” Frea asked.

“I no longer have farsight,” Wynnfrith said. “Deifol Hroth took my power from me. He took it into the Lhalíi.”

“Use the Ar,” Garmee Gamee said.

“And how will she do that?” Frea snapped.

“I don’t know, like she did back there,” Garmee Gamee sneered.

“Could you fight the garonds with the Ar?” Frea asked Wynnfrith.

Wynnfrith paused and pulled out the leather bound object. She carefully unwrapped the stone.

“I’m not sure,” Wynnfrith said. “It is powerful and not meant for humans. You’ve all felt that.” Wynnfrith carefully began to rewrap the Ar.

“Then we should travel to the Lake of Ettonne as you suggested,” Frea said, stepping a few paces away to survey their prospects.

“You are fools,” Garmee Gamee snapped, and hit Wynnfrith in the face. As Wynnfrith fell in pain, Garmee Gamee kicked her in the ribs.  Garmee Gamee grabbed the stone wrapped in the piece of leather, and then ran as fast as she could to the north.

“Garmee Gamee!” Frea yelled as she held Wynnfrith who lay crumpled on the dried grass.

“Go after her!” Wynnfrith gasped.

“I won’t leave you here alone,” Frea said.

Wynnfrith struggled to her feet.

“We have to get the Ar back, before it falls into the wrong hands,” Wynnfrith said as she weakly limped next to Frea through the dead, winter pastures of the Far Grasslands.

“It has already fallen into the wrong hands,” Frea said as she helped Wynnfrith hobble after Garmee Gamee.

Stavolebe awoke to the blue sky of the morning. He started awake, sat up, and looked around the upper chamber of Deifol Hroth’s citadel. He was alone, and the chamber had been swept clean. There were no longer tables or books. The uppermost chamber now felt more like a prison.

The oaken door burst open and Deifol Hroth entered. He held his hand out to Stavolebe.

“Come,” the Dark Lord said. “The time is nearing. You will do great things.”

Deifol Hroth led Stavolebe down through the tower of the citadel, down into the dark, down into a shadowed dungeon.

Four garonds struggled with ropes trying to hold down a massive beast.

“Fools!” Deifol Hroth barked. He raised his hand, and the four garonds were thrown back, smashed against the walls of their dungeon by Deifol Hroth’s invisible power.

“Come here,” Deifol Hroth said to Stavolebe. “Come and meet Grisn, the Kaprk-Uusshu.”

Stavolebe was paralyzed with fear.

Before him was a beast four times the size of a horse. Its massive head was like a ram’s head, but there the similarity ended. It had a large, thorny plate that covered the upper portion of its weirdly long head. Its body was long, too long for how large it was. Its body seemed to snake into an undulating curve. It had two gigantic, heavy, thorny horns that curled as a ram’s horns should. Its tail was thick, muscular and writhed like a heavy snake. The end of the tail had a fish like fluke, and its hind legs had webbed feet. Its body was covered with gray, shaggy hair. But a row of thick, iridescent blue scales covered its spine.

The huge animal turned and fixed Stavolebe with a large rectangular pupil resembling a goat’s eye. Stavolebe noticed a shaggy beard sprouting from the animal’s chin.

“What- what-?” Stavolebe stammered.

“Half ram, half wyrm, very old,” Deifol Hroth smiled. He reached out to pet the beast, but it bared its teeth, long rows of short, triangular fangs. “It doesn’t like me,” Deifol Hroth whispered to Stavolebe with a smile.

The Dark Lord snapped his fingers and three garonds entered. One garond bore the Mattear Gram. One bore the Lhalíi. The third cradled a thick cloth dripping with blood.

Deifol Hroth took the sword and the crystal and wrapped them in the bloody cloth. When he handed the bundle to Stavolebe it appeared as a normal ranger’s type rucksack.

Still in shock, Stavolebe took the rucksack.

“Now get up and ride,” Deifol Hroth said.

“What- what-?” Stavolebe stammered.

“Grisn knows where to take you,” Deifol Hroth said with a pleasant smile, “and when you get there, you will know what to do.”

Stavolebe was dazzled by Deifol Hroth’s charm. He slowly climbed up on the colossal Kaprk-Uusshu.

“Don’t let him get too near water. He’ll probably kill you and escape,” Deifol Hroth said with a wink.

Then the Dark Lord turned to the garonds.

“Tell the were-garonds to stay away from Grisn,” Deifol Hroth said, “he doesn’t like them and will go out of his way to kill them. I’ve had trouble enough keeping this beast away from the thing in the pit.”

The Dark Lord of All Evil Magic lifted his regrown hand, and several garonds pushed open a mountainous double door. The morning light streamed in with the foul mist.

“Go!” Deifol Hroth cried with a laugh. “Go, Stavolebe, and end everything!”

The Archer nudged the elf. They had been taking turns sleeping, and the Archer felt his eyelids drooping.

Baalenruud stood before the elf, who started awake at the sight of her.

“It wants to talk to you,” the Archer said. “Then its my turn to sleep.”

“I go down the Bairn River now,” Baalenruud hissed. “I go to Byland.”

“Go and be rid of you,” Iounelle sleepily said.

Baalenruud instantly shimmered and transformed into his snake form. She slithered away to the north, towards the Bairn.

The wolves began to excitedly bark and jump.

The Kaprk-Uusshu exploded from the mist, with Stavolebe desperately clinging to its back.

“Kaprk-Uusshu!” The elf cried.

The elf whistled and their horses quickly ran up to them to be mounted. The Archer and the elf leapt on their horses and galloped hard after the strange beast.

Iounelle leaned down to talk to the pack of wolves that ran with them.

“Do not try to stop it,” she commanded Conniker. “It is too dangerous. We will only track it.”

Conniker nodded his head in understanding.

Stavolebe found it very difficult to hold on to Grisn. Its long body snaked and rocked in a most irregular way.

The Archer and the elf chased the Kaprk-Uusshu due east, straight down the Westernway Road towards Byland.

Chapter Twenty

Over Byland

All day a warm, persistent rain fell. Every slushy pile of snow melted away to mud and rising waters. The human soldiers miserably sloshed ahead to their defending lines. Rivulets and streams began to trickle through all of Byland. Ponds and puddles splashed with every step.

Arnwylf pushed in the middle of the throng of human soldiers all inching forward to the shaky bridges spanning the rising,  raging Flume of Gawry. Huge chunks of ice washed down the flume, sometimes bumping up against the rope and wood bridges filled to bursting with human warriors eager to get across before it collapsed.

The sun was setting and the human army wanted to get to the rumored dry tents set up in Byland.

“As soon as you draw the Mattear Gram, I will be there to take it from you,” Apghilis said over Arnwylf’s shoulder.

Arnwylf turned, but the crush of soldiers pushed him forward, away from his father’s murderer. Arnwylf’s face was a silent mask of pain and revenge,  as he locked eyes with Apghilis.

“I will take it and lead the army to victory, as is my right!” Apghilis yelled as the crowd swallowed him. Arnwylf tried to turn back to get to Apghilis, he fought and struggled against the growing mass of human soldiers. But, he was soon pushed forward to the foot of a bridge.

“Get going! Get going!” An attendant sergeant bellowed.

The bridge swayed and creaked. There were too many soldiers on the bridge. The ropes would snap at any moment. The raging slush of the flume would kill in mere moments.

It was going to be dark soon, and every soldier wanted to be squared away for the night. The garonds would almost certainly attack at dawn as they had at the Battle of the Eastern Meadowland, so there was still time to make peace with whatever god was worshipped.

Ronenth stared out at the ice choking the mouth of the Bairn River. It should have been the quickest path to join the human armies in Byland. But he had been scrambling over the beached mountains of ice all day, and hadn’t seemed to get any closer to Byland. The rain made the ice colder and he  shivered uncontrollably. Hid hands were stiff from the freezing temperatures. The world was only blue and gray.