The Lord Of Lightning (Book 3) (25 page)

"Please make yourself at home," Summeninquis said as he closed the curtains of every window, plunging his large, one room home into a darkened gloom. "We have much to discuss."

"Once the crowd has thinned I would rather go to my own home," Halldora said without sitting.

"Nonsense," Summeninquis said, offering fine fruits and wine in a crystal decanter, with a flourish of his hand. Halldora simply shook her head in polite refusal.

Summeninquis and his family were migrants from a human nation well east of the Far Grasslands. Some of the people who had come with the High Judge were very honorable, such as the High Judge's brother, Maginalius, a soldier who rose through the ranks of the wealdkin army by his courage and hard work, who had given his life in the first assaults of Deifol Hroth's citadel at Syrenf.

Summeninquis, himself was larger than the average human wealder. His hair was a shining black that he dressed with oil. His skin, like all his race, was a deep brown. He had a large hawkish nose and piercing, cruel, black eyes.

It was revealed only recently that he was in possession of a magical object, the dagger of Enon Shoth, a token that had the power to influence the minds of men. It was rumored that he had gained his high office through the use of the arcane dagger. With the assassination of King Bosruss and the flight of Queen Alrhett with her daughter, Wynnfrith, Summeninquis became an absolute political power in the Nation of the Weald.

"Our nations are fractured and frightened," Summeninquis said moving around his furniture, closer to Halldora.

The elvish bracelet, with the intertwined, curling, gold and silver branches suddenly became warm on Halldora's wrist. But, she paid it no mind, as she carefully watched High Judge Summeninquis carefully stalk her around the one room home.

"All the poor subjects," Summeninquis purred with a wave of his hand at the darkened windows, "they so desperately need unified leaders. Their royals are all gone now, with the passing of beloved Caerlund, but you. Ah, but your Athelings, your lords and nobles, do not trust you. They look to me for guidance, more than they do to their Queen."

Halldora backed away, keeping her eye on Summeninquis. She suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Halldora was a lithe woman, nearly half the size and weight of the formidable High Judge, who kept suspiciously maneuvering to be near her.  Halldora moved around a sofa, trying to keep some kind of furniture between the High Judge and herself.

"I am reminded of the treachery of Ergester, and the other Lords of the Eaststand who murdered their own king, Bosruss," Summeninquis said with a strange smile. "I condemned those traitors to death with great pleasure. I could do the same to the Athelings who betray you. But only if I had authority to do so."

The bracelet was getting quite warm now, and Halldora turned the elvish trinket on her wrist, without registering how warm it was getting. She was getting a very uneasy feeling from Summeninquis. 

"Imagine if our nations were united," Summeninquis said lowering his voice. "The Weald and the Kingdom of Man are the two strongest nations in Wealdland. If we were to unite..."

"Unite?" Halldora challenged. "What exactly do you mean?"

"You know how much you mean to me," Summeninquis falsely cooed.

"Oh, please," Halldora said, circling away. "Not this old tripe again. Wynnfrith and I used to laugh as we compared how you used the same clumsy courting lines on both of us. You merely wish to attain a royal title through marriage. You care not about the people of this land."

Summeninquis positioned himself in front of the door.

Then Halldora remembered what the elf had said about the bracelet.

"The inscription reads, 'may wisdom make you safe'," the elf had said.

Halldora instantly knew she was in danger.

"It is so much easier back in my home land," Summeninquis said his voice flat and emotionless. "Woman obeys man. If she does not, she is beaten. Perhaps you need to be treated as the women back in my home land, to understand that you must obey me."

"Let me leave, at once," Halldora quietly said with regal anger. She was ready to throw herself through a window if she had to. She laid her hand on the hilt of her sword. She didn't know if she would have time to draw her sword before the large man would be upon her.

"No," Summeninquis said, his eyes dark and merciless. "This is, for all intents and purposes, our marriage day. So, we must consummate our marriage at once. Then, you will obey me without question."

"Stral-!" Halldora started to cry out, but Summeninquis was quick, grabbed her arm and threw her to the floor.

"You must learn obedience," Summeninquis said as he undid the belt about his robe.

Halldora struggled to her feet and tried to draw her sword. But, Summeninquis reached out and threw her against the table. The fruit and the crystal decanter crashed to the floor.

As Halldora fell hard against the wood floor, she saw her own reflection in a hundred shards of broken glass. She reached again to pull the sword at her side, but Summeninquis quickly pinned her arm with his foot. He knelt down, over her.

"I had hoped our marriage would be more ceremonial," Summeninquis said with a brutish laugh. Then he shifted the weight of his body over Halldora.

Halldora thought of how the elf had implied that she could control fire, but there was no open flame in the home.

"This will only be but a moment," Summeninquis growled low and vicious.

Halldora reached out with her free hand and grabbed a shard of the crystal decanter. And, without hesitation plunged the glass splinter into the High Judge's neck.

Summeninquis pulled back as though he had been shocked. He clutched at the blood squirting from the wound at his neck.

Halldora sat up and reached for the shard in the High Judge's neck. Summeninquis held both hands to the wound, trying to extract the crystal shard, but also staunch the flow of blood. Halldora reached between his slippery fingers and worked the shard further into his neck. Summeninquis kicked Halldora away in panic.

Halldora rolled to her feet and drew her sword.

"This is no marriage day for you," Halldora said. And, she swung hard, overhand, splitting the High Judge's head from his crown to his neck. Summeninquis slumped to the floor of his one room home, a heap of oozing remains.

All was quiet as Halldora caught her breath. She could hear the crowd outside, milling about. She would have to leave calm and confident.

She sheathed her sword and opened the door.

"A very good suggestion," Halldora said back to the darkened room, pretending to speak parting words to the slaughtered High Judge. Halldora closed the door and looked for Stralain. The Captain was not far away. Halldora slowly strode in his direction. Halldora suddenly found that she had difficulty breathing. The world was edged with darkness. Don't faint! She screamed in her mind to herself.

Halldora looked down, and noticed with horror that her clothes were finely speckled with Summeninquis' blood.

A scream pierced the air, and Halldora winced, knowing Summeninquis corpse had just been discovered.

Halldora pushed her way towards Stralain, as the Captain pushed his way towards her.

As they met, Stralain roughly grabbed Halldora by the arm.

"She killed the High Judge!" Someone cried.

"We have to get you out of the camp," Stralain said.

A roar from the crowd chilled Halldora to her marrow. She became aware of the sudden, movement of the crowd, a wave of restlessness that pulsed through the throng that was full of frustration and ready for violence. Halldora could see heads all about turning to look at her.

Halldora, Stralain, and his soldiers pushed through the main body of the mob, and they ran for the edge of the ramshackle village. The cry went up to catch and slay Halldora.

The day was cloudy and overcast, but the morning was gone and the afternoon promised to be cold and miserable. Halldora saw the open space of the Plain of Syrenf just beyond the last line of houses of the human encampment, a flat, treeless, grassy plain. Halldora wouldn't get far without a horse. But, she could run for all she was worth. Stralain and his soldiers might buy her some time to get to the cover of the trees far to the north.

But, a group of twenty Athelings stepped from the houses on the edge of the village and blocked the way.

"Where are you going, my Queen?" Stomikother growled from their midst. He had the red eyes of a man who had been drinking, and the aggressive surliness to match.

"Let us pass," Stralain commanded. It seemed that every human in the encampment now crowded around Halldora and Stralain.

"I don't take orders from Weald scum," Stomikother said, drawing his sword.

"From whom do you take your orders?" Arnwylf loudly said, his eyes afire, as he arrived from the north, with three hundred wolves.

Chapter Twelve

The Edges of the World

Ravensdred snarled. Thousands of long boats lined the beach. His Dark Lord had been very specific about the timing of Ravensdred's arrival in Wealdland. He must deliver the fused Sun and Moon Swords exactly at midday tomorrow, no sooner, no later.

The sun hung low over the ocean. It would be night soon.

His garond soldiers were more than impatient. The boats had been finished several days ago. The common feeling amongst the whole garond army was that they simply had to row across the New Sea, and then they would have a great feast of human flesh.

Fights and skirmishes amongst the garond soldiers had to be contained quickly. He couldn't let their fiery spirits fade, but he couldn't have factions and coalitions suddenly reducing their numbers.

Not that the overwhelming numbers were any concern. Ravensdred smiled a vicious smile that barred his teeth. The Battle of the Eastern Meadowland had the garonds outnumbering human soldiers five to one. It was the clever battle strategies of the human Kellabald that had saved the humans that day.

At the Battle of Byland, the garond armies outnumbered the humans ten to one. It should have been a blood bath. But, the shattering of the land bridge took half his army, and created a difficult defense to overcome, the New Sea.

With just over five hundred thousand garond warriors, and the humans numbering barely a hundred thousand, the five to one numbers favored a garond victory.

There was no tricky human general to lead the human forces. There would be no natural disaster to snatch triumph from his claws this time.

But still, Ravensdred cursed the fool Mudsang who had got himself killed by the human spies here in the Far Grasslands. Ravensdred could have used, at the moment, the religious hold the Evil One had over his men. Without Mudsang to frighten them, all of the religious mumblings of the lesser priests were ignored.

Ravensdred still was unsure of the reports of Mudsang's death. He was sure, however, that the dark haired human boy with the elvish weapon had been instrumental in the murder of the Evil One's High Priest.

Once on the field of battle, he would give an order to leave the glaf boy for himself. He would deliver the swords to his Master, and then take great pleasure in first humiliating the boy with his own new weapon, and then consuming his flesh.

Ravensdred hefted the Ulokem Swogger. The black metal felt so comfortable in his hands. In one hand he casually held the long, swooping scimitar. In the other hand he loosely gripped the black, vicious horn, and in the crook of that arm he cradled the large metal ball with the serrated ridges that scratched his arm and left a trickle of blood. Ravensdred let the black metal chains that connected the parts of the Ulokem Swogger hang down and clank as he walked. It frightened his soldiers, and that pleased him.

The huge garond silently walked the beach with his weapon, glaring at his soldiers who expectantly gathered near their large long boats. Each boat would carry fifty soldiers. With nearly every soldier at an oar, it wouldn't take long to cross the New Sea. But, it had to be timed according to his Master's plan. In that, Ravensdred would not fail.

A scuffle broke out among the soldiers a distance ahead of Ravensdred's path. He quickly strode to two soldiers brawling with long knives. One of the soldiers got on top of the other and held his knife high for the kill.

The soldier froze as he saw Ravensdred approach. The two soldiers quickly parted, eyes down.

Without hesitation, Ravensdred thrust the scimitar and slashed open the soldier that had been on top.

"I would have respected you more," Ravensdred said to the gushing corpse, "if you had finished the job."

His men muttered low, deadly laughs.

Klad, Ravensdred's first captain pushed his way into the crowd.

"Get that meat out of here," Klad ordered. "Send it to the butcher for dressing. You men line up for inspection. Get up! Line up!"

Ravensdred smiled. He liked his squat, muscular captain. Klad would sort the men out, punish the guilty, and instill fear in all who had let their discipline lapse. It was rare to feel as though he had someone on whom he could rely.

"See!" A cry went up amongst the soldiers. Several garond warriors pointed out to the placid, darkening ocean. It would be night soon, and it promised to be a clear and calm night, perfect for their invasion.

Out beyond the surf, several dark forms roiled in the water. "Vyreeoten," the hushed whisper went among the garond warriors.

The number of wriggling forms began to increase to a disgusting number. Hundreds of sea serpents impatiently thrashed the brine. The garonds had seen the vyreeoten before and had even killed and attempted to eat them. Their flesh was noxious and vile.

"Are you afraid of our escorts?" Ravensdred yelled at his soldiers.

The realization caused a savage cheer to go up from the maws of five hundred thousand garond killers.

Arnwylf raised his hand, and barked in wolfish. Every wolf but Conniker sat. Arnwylf strode into the human encampment, with his white wolf brother by his side.

The wealdkin began to urgently whisper among themselves.

"Arnwylf!"

"The prince of the Weald lives!"

"Arnwylf lives!" The whisper went among the people.

Arnwylf looked side long at Stomikother with a challenging stare, and the Atheling of Man quickly sheathed his sword, as did the other Athelings.

"My Queen," Arnwylf said with an affectionate smile to Halldora. "I am sorry we took so long, but wolves tend to stray, here and there, as they travel across the land. I understand you've had some trouble from the High Judge of the Weald."

"He tried to force himself on me," Halldora said plainly, but clearly masking embarrassment.

Arnwylf could see the Athelings of Man bristle with shocked anger, and wounded pride.

"And none of your mighty Athelings protected their queen?" Arnwylf said the last directly to Stomikother, who was now red faced, with eyes downcast.

"What did you do to him?" Arnwylf softly said.

"I relieved his shoulders of the burden of his head," Halldora said raising her chin.

Stomikother began to rudely giggle, until a hard stare from Arnwylf stopped him.

"It is a good thing I had not caught him," Arnwylf said with a tight, dangerous smile. "I would have cut him into pieces small enough to feed my wolf brothers. At long last, a festering wound on the people of the Weald has been excised."

Stralain quickly went down on one knee and held his sword to his chest.

"My liege," Stralain said, bowing his head. "As Captain of the armies of the Weald I am yours to command."

"I suppose," Arnwylf said with a weary smile, "I shall have to negotiate the treachery of Weald politics before I can accept your allegiance. Please rise, Captain. However," Arnwylf turned to loudly address the whole crowd, "my wolf brothers are here to fight with us. Let us find what food we can give them before the battle begins tomorrow."

A hush fell upon the gathered people.

"Yes," Arnwylf said. "I have information that the Evil One will try to destroy all of Wealdland tomorrow. His garond armies are coming from across the New Sea. We can stand around and wring our hands, or we can prepare to bring the slaughter to them."

A growling murmur ran through the gathered humans, a desire rekindled, a new hope of ridding the land of the Lord of Lightning, once and for all.

"I would speak with the warriors of the Madrun Hills, if they will let me," Arnwylf said. "The rest of you, pull down that disgraceful village and use the wood to make battlements, and engines of war. And spare what you can to feed my wolf brothers, but do not feed them any of Summeninquis. I do not wish to poison their hardy stomachs."

A deathly hush fell on the assembled humans.

"Why do we wait?" Stralain boomed. "Men of the Weald follow me."

The great crowd of humanity set to work tearing down their flimsy wooden homes with renewed vigor, despair banished for the moment.

A group of orange haired warriors approached Arnwylf.

"I am Rabblund," a short, but very muscular warrior dressed with the leather tunics of the madronites said. "You wished to speak to us."

"Your pain is my pain," Arnwylf said to the men of the Madrun Hills. "You know that Caerlund treated me as a son, when he had none of his own. And with the loss of Kellabald, he became as a father to me."

"Come with us," Rabblund said.

Arnwylf somberly followed the silent madronites to their part of the encampment.

From Bittel, the elf rode hard to the west. With the baby human boy cradled against her body, by late morning, she soon found the fishing town of Alfhich, but it was completely deserted. The bridge across the wide Holmwy River was still burned to blackened debris jutting from the brown water, and with no boats at the piers nor any human in sight, she had no choice but to ride north.

At Midday, the elf came to the ornate bridge over the Holmwy River at the small village of Tyny. Again, no human or garond was found.

Iounelle spotted a badger lumbering through the grass and called to it.

"Bhelgr, hvid leen prepagoastr naskreim verhydnihapeg brúdjekan ?" The elf asked in Miranei, relying on a bit of gossip she once heard that all small, fur bearing creatures spoke the elven tongue.

"Hínvathar stokr arsteg, leethan ," the Badger replied, and then trundled on its way, seemingly annoyed by the question.

Iounelle knew the badger meant the Battle of the Eastern Meadowlands, so Tyny had been abandoned for almost two years.

The elf rode over the bridge and followed the Holmwy River's western bank until she found the Westernway Road. She rode all the rest of the day across the southern end of the Western Meadowlands.

Iounelle had much time to think as her horse closed the distance to Reia. She thought about the last moments of her people, how her brother, Albehthaire, had saved her life. It seemed strange to her that he would act so quickly, and resolutely to keep her out of that conflict, almost like he knew the tragic, inevitable outcome, and knew the only way to keep his sister from also losing her life in the garond attack was to knock her unconscious and hide her well enough, just as the battle began.

The coincidence was too much for Iounelle. And coupled to that, the gathering to Bittel of the only elf blood mixed into the few humans in all of Wealdland also troubled her mind, as the leagues were covered by her horse.

Iounelle had the reoccurring, uneasy feeling that a Hidden Hand was moving events all around her. But for what purpose and how, she was not sure.

Iounelle began to worry about the human baby nestled against her breast. Although the child had drunk deeply of wolf's milk the night before, she had no way to feed the infant now.

But, little Mót slept soundly against her warm body, thus far on the journey.

As she rode, Iounelle thought about what Yulenth had said in Bittel about the coming garond invasion.

"Two days at the latest," He had said last night.

Which meant that the garond army could be expected to arrive tomorrow, Iounelle thought, or earlier.

Iounelle wondered how she would get the reian army to Syrenf in time, even if they were persuaded to fight. If every reian had a horse, they might arrive tomorrow evening, on foot, it would be too late.

In the late afternoon, halfway across the Westernway Road through the Western Meadowlands, Iounelle felt as though someone was watching her. She scanned the horizon in every direction and saw no sign of life, not even wild animals.

The elf just couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, and suddenly she pinpointed the source. She looked straight up as a straight blue streak of energy screamed across the clear, cloudless sky, leaving behind an unsettling humming sound.

Instinctively ducking her head, Iounelle wondered at the sight. But since it didn't impede her progress towards Gillalliath, she didn't let it occupy her thoughts, and urged her horse onward.

Iounelle looked out to the south, to the Mere Lanis. The ocean was placid and calm, reflecting the setting sun of the late afternoon. She thought of the corsairs that once visited her city, Lanis Rhyl Landemiriam, when she was still a child.

The corsairs, from lands far to the south, had a rich, dark brown skin, and the elves loved them. They would bring gems, minerals, and skillfully crafted goods in exchange for elvish jewelry and cloth. Iounelle remembered that the corsairs seemed to always be laughing. Her people cherished laughter, and any who displayed a keen sense of humor was always welcome among the elves.

Iounelle thought that maybe she saw a sail in the reflecting glare on the sea, but wasn't sure if she simply wanted her old life to come back to her. She brought her mind back to the present and focused on the task at hand.

"Hvus leenas savathal, rágnde? " Iounelle called down to her steed.