The Lord Of Lightning (Book 3)

by K. J. Hargan

  "It's the last one," the Archer soberly said. "It has to be the arrow destined to kill him." Then he carefully replaced it in his quiver.

  The Old Man ushered the Archer into the shack that he had cobbled together from the wreckage that had eventually beached days after the gigantic wave that swept the coastline clean.

  "Smoked fish?" The Old Man said with a twinkle in his eye, knowing that was all they had.

  "Sounds pleasant," the Archer said with a small smile, silently laughing at the joke. It was all they had eaten since the Archer had arrived.

  The Old Man had been very generous and accommodating the past seven days, probably happy for the company, never mind that his guest impossibly sought an object forever buried in the depths of the New Sea.

  The Old Man carefully cut one small piece of greasy, smoked fish in half, and offered one piece to the Archer.

  "I fought for the Kingdom of Man," the Old Man said as he vigorously chewed his portion of fish. "Did I ever tell you that?"

  The Archer just smiled, since the Old Man brought it up at every meal.

  "I was a foot soldier," the Old Man said. "I had my own sword. I was in three campaigns against Reia, and two against Glafemen. We loved when you kiplethites were on our side, and shivered in our boots when your arrows were aimed at us. No one blamed you for fighting for both sides.

  "I mean, what did it matter anyway? A thousand men trying to kill another thousand men, and in a hundred years we'll all be dead anyway. Stupid, eh?

  "I knew some Athelings. Did you ever know any? No? I saw Apghilis several times. I fought for King Aneagill, and then for his son, Haergill, after. He was a good man no matter what anybody said.

  "That damn Varknifl, Atheling Judge... Took many houses and lands from good folks I knew. Just because he said so. That's the trouble with the Northern Kingdom of Man. Justice is only who can slay who. Can you get your sword in? Then you're right, friend, no questions asked. How can a people stay grouped as a... people, like that? What kind of community is that?

  "You live a good life surrounded by trust. You trust your neighbors and they trust you. The happiest years of my life were in this miserable fishing village until the Great King of Waves came and took everyone away.

  "When trust is gone, all you have is violence and terror. Can't walk down a path, but some thug will try to stick you. And then, you think, maybe I'll do the sticking first. That was life in the last days of the Northern Kingdom of Man. That life was a quiet, miserable kind of hell.

  "Three campaigns against Reia and two against Glafemen. I tell you what, if the garonds hadn't gone after the glafs, they would have beat us. Half our numbers, and they won almost every time. Tricky, they were. Tricky. Never met a glaf, man to man. Would have liked to. Have you? Wonder if they're tricky like that, man to man, or just their fighting."

  "The few I have known were very honorable," the Archer answered.

  "Oh, hmm," the Old Man pondered. "Not many around. Not many glafs left alive. But that's what it comes down to, doesn't it? You can have lands and gold, and a battle crown as magnificent as King Aneagill's and what does it matter once you're dead?

  "Seems the only thing that really matters in life is who you get along with. If you have children, you may not get along with them. You may not get along with your wife, but you make the best of every day.

  "The only thing that really matters is love. I know it's been said a million times, and it'll probably be said a million times after me. But when you have love, it's the only time you truly know you're alive. Everything becomes clear.

  "Animals live in the very quick of life. And we're animals of a sort. But we forget that quickness, the very moment in which we're living.

  "We think too much about the past, dwell too much on the future. Then you don't even trust yourself. And that's a unique kind of hell.

  "We're creatures meant to understand the nature of things, and sometimes we get blind to the true, clear vision that comes with being in love, and being loved just as much back. Sometimes you just have to jump in. It really is a kind of faith. Will this person love me back? Who knows until you jump?

  "And there's nothing worse than a life lived with regret. Regret for what you didn't have the courage to do. Looking back on mistakes I've made in my life, I have few regrets of the things I've actually done. What I regret the most is the things I should have done, the things I left undone, the things I decided I could avoid, the things I didn't have the inner strength to attempt. Those things gnaw at you all the rest of your life. So it's better to get out there and take a chance, right? Like falling in love, it's like taking a chance, taking a leap.

  "And listen, love that shakes you to your core, even for a few moonths, or just a day, is worth a whole lifetime of suffering. Not everybody gets that. Count yourself lucky if you do, and don't squander it, right?"

  The old man stopped and held very still, listening.

  "What is it?" The Archer whispered.

  "Something's out there," the Old Man whispered back.

  The Archer could hear the heavy crunch, crunch of somebody, or some thing, very large, walking over the sand near the hut.

  "It's not a vyreeoten," the Archer whispered as he flipped his bow of his shoulder and quickly nocked a wooden tipped arrow, just in case. "They don't have feet."

  The Old Man and the Archer held very still as the sound of something very heavy walked all around the shack, twice, then walked away.

  The Archer stepped towards the shoddy wood slats that comprised the door. The Old Man caught his arm.

  "It's getting dark," the old man said with worry. "Wait for dawn and we'll track it."

  "Sometimes you have to just jump in, right?" The Archer whispered with a serious smile, and then slipped out the door.

  The sun was setting into a bank of dark purple, black and gray clouds to the west. Neither of the two moons had risen yet. The sky was a dull copper above the low clouds in the west. The sky in the east was a rising black against a rich phthalo blue.

  In the east, over the New Sea, the Evening Star blazed like a mysterious, beckoning beacon in the rising night. The Archer thought the Evening Star seemed to be calling out to him, over the flat grayness of the New Sea, pointing, here, here the Lhalíi lays hidden in the deep.

  The Archer bent down to examine the sand around the hut. The tracks were definitely hooves, but massive hooves. He could have fit both hands into one indentation. The rear feet were strange, not hooves. The rear feet tracks looked like the imprint of some huge, large, web footed bird. Two large animals together? No, definitely front and hind feet, hooves and webbed feet.

  The Archer immediately had a good guess at what it was that had left the spoor outside the shack. The Archer swiveled his head around, worriedly looking for the beast. Derragen cautiously followed the tracks away from the ramshackle hut towards the rocky promontory that had saved the Old Man's life when the titanic wave had struck.

  Derragen could see the black shape of some animal prowling around the giant blocks of granite piled up high. The dark silhouette was long and slinky, but the body was massive.

  The Archer carefully put his wooden arrow back, and pulled a bronze tipped arrow and nocked it to his bowstring.

  The animal seemed to be pawing at the massive blocks of stone with its large hooves.

  "Kaprk-Uusshu!" The Archer called. He had seen the animal just three moonths ago, when Lord Stavolebe, the traitor, had ridden the beast to Byland at Deifol Hroth's command. The Archer and the elf tracked the weird beast, desperately trying to stop Stavolebe. When the Kaprk-Uusshu had reached Byland, it threw Stavolebe off its back and had plunged into the Bight of Lanis.

  The animal ignored the Archer and continued pawing and growling at the rocks.

  The Archer, arrow high, cautiously walked towards the animal. He felt confident, despite the animal's size, he could pierce its heart, and kill it in an instant.

  The Kaprk-Uusshu was four times the size of a horse. Its
colossal head was shaped like a ram, but covered in large, reptilian scales, some scales a purplish hue, some a rich cream color. The rack of its horns was as wide as three men, and covered with vicious bony spikes. Its body was long and unnaturally snaking. Its front feet were great, crushing hooves, but its rear feet were large, webbed orange claws. Its long, thick muscular tail whipped back and forth, with a fish-like fluke at the end. Its body was covered in a white, shaggy fur, but a series of thick scales ran down the center of its back.

  It was said, in whispered legends, that the Kaprk-Uusshu was the offspring of the crossing of a dragon with a mountain goat, and it certainly looked the part.

  As the Archer neared, he understood that the beast was actually talking, and not merely grunting, speaking in a deep, creaking guttural voice.

  "Kaprk-Uusshu!" The Archer called again.

  The Archer could see, as the animal turned to look at him, that the beast had rectangular pupils in its colossal yellow eyes.

  "Help me," the animal deeply creaked.

  The Archer lowered his bow. The beast was pleading for help. Derragen was momentarily confused. Then he quickly raised his bow.

  "Why should I help you?" Derragen challenged. "You serve the Dark One."

  "No," the animal growled with some difficulty. "He force me. My sister."

  Then the beast returned to stalking back and forth over the boulders.

  "Is- is she in there?" The Archer said with instant comprehension.

  "Trapped," the Kaprk-Uusshu moaned with a pain that touched the Archer. The animal rubbed its head between the cracks in the boulders as if it wanted to force its head into the space below. It certainly had the strength to push right through the boulders. What prevented it? The Archer wondered.

  "Sometimes you have to just jump in," the Archer wryly breathed to himself. He quivered his arrow, and flipped his bow over his shoulder. "Let me see," the Derragen said as he slowly climbed up on the rocks, keeping a wary eye on the Kaprk-Uusshu.

  He could hear a heavy breathing coming up from the space beneath the dome of carefully placed boulders. In the blackest shadows, below the boulders, a huge form paced, turning in a confined space below the colossal rocks.

  "You can move these," the Archer said, then caught himself. "No," he said as he turned his head, and surveyed the prison of gigantic stones. "They will fall in if you do it wrong. The stones will kill it- her."

  "Yes," the huge beast creaked. "Help, please. Save her." The great sorrow in the animal's voice was all too clear.

  "Of course I will," the Archer said with a sudden conviction. "I am Derragen," the Archer said to introduce himself.

  "I Grisn," the Kaprk-Uusshu said. "Down there, Josr," the beast said with a tilt of its enormous head.

  "Help me," a faint, yet deep voice called from below the megaliths. The voice was filled with despair and weak from imprisonment. The sound of the wretched, trapped animal filled the Archer's heart with an even greater hatred for Deifol Hroth and pity for the huge beast below.

  "We will get you out, Josr," the Archer called down to the dark void beneath the stones, with a sudden fierce conviction. A person, or beast, that was hurt, overwhelmed, or trapped always brought the Archer's blood up.

  The Archer paced over the pile of boulders. They had been cleverly stacked as a tenuous dome. Pull the wrong one and the whole weight would crush the animal underneath. And it was a considerable construction of titanic rocks, a perfect prison for so magnificent a beast.

  The Archer tapped on a granite boulder with his bow.

  "Josr, can you push on this one when I give the order?" The Archer called down to the dark.

  "I weak, but try," the deep voice echoed up.

  Derragen leapt to the third boulder over.

  "Now, Grisn," the Archer said, "Strike this one from the side, here, when I give the order. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," Grisn deeply rasped, nodding his colossal head.

  The Archer climbed to the crowning boulder in the center. He drew Bravilc, the elvish sword given to him by Iounelle, the last elf of Lanis.

  "I'll pry here," the Archer said, "and try to move this group of stones so they fall to the side. "Josr," the Archer called down to the shadows, "watch your tail."

  "Understand," the feeble voice called up from the dark.

  "You have Bravilc," Grisn said pointedly to Derragen.

  "Yes," the Archer stuttered, surprised that the beast recognized the sword. "It was a gift from Iounelle of Lanis."

  The Kaprk-Uusshu said nothing more, so the Archer let the matter drop.

  The Archer looked about and made sure he was in the right spot. He took a couple of breaths to steady himself.

  "Get ready," Derragen said as he wedged his blade under a boulder. "And... Now!"

  As the Archer strained on the lever he had made of his sword, he looked up to see Grisn raise his colossal head as he lifted up on his hind legs, the beasts long, long body stretched out, hooves tucked under. The massive rack of curled horns seemed to hold in the air, until it boomed down onto the rock. The Archer saw the boulders Grisn hit shudder sideways, as the boulder he told Josr to lift rumbled upwards.

  The Archer leaned on his sword, gritting his teeth and pulling down on Bravilc with all his might. In that moment, he felt the terror and despair of the beast trapped below, and the desperation of her brother. A flash of light and loud crash surprised the Archer as the boulder he was leveraging crumbled. Josr exploded from her prison.

  Grisn quickly grabbed Josr by the nape of the neck and dragged her away from the lethal trap.

  The Archer fell with the massive boulders, down into the prison. The world went black for Derragen.

  The Archer regained consciousness to see Grisn violently shoving boulders aside with his horns to uncover him. The titanic beast gently bit the Archer's cloak when he got to the human, and dragged him out of the ruined snare of huge granite stones.

  "Did we get your sister out?" The Archer weakly asked as he lay back on the cold granite.

  In response, Josr loomed from behind Grisn's huge head.

  Josr was like Grisn, but her features were more feminine. Her horns were smaller, straight spears of horn jutting up from her delicate head. But even with more diminutive features in relation to her brother, Josr was still twice the size of a horse. She batted huge eyelashes at the Archer.

  "I out," Josr said in a deep creaking voice, tilting her head. The Archer could have sworn she was smiling at him, and was surprised to find himself feeling slightly uncomfortable, as though he was being scrutinized by a young, love-struck maid.

  "I'm glad we got you out," the Archer said rising to his feet. "Now I have a request of you."

  "Anything," Josr quickly said in her deep guttural voice.

  "What?" Grisn asked, being more cautious.

  "There is a thing," the Archer said. "At the bottom of the water. Just out there," he pointed out to the expanse of the New Sea. "I need to get this thing."

  "What thing?" Grisn asked, his rectangular pupil narrowing.

  "It's an elvish crystal called the Lhalíi," the Archer said, deciding it best to be honest with these strange creatures.

  "Lhalíi," Grisn groaned. "Dangerous." The Kaprk-Uusshu turned his huge head and looked out at the New Sea.

  "I know it's dangerous," Derragen said spreading his hands. "But it is more dangerous in the hands of Deifol Hroth. We must get it before he does."

  The Archer noticed Grisn visibly grimace and grind his huge teeth at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. It all became clear to the Archer. Grisn was no ally of the Dark Lord. The Beast had been forced to help the Lord of Lightning with his sister, Josr, held hostage. The Kaprk-Uusshu probably hated Deifol Hroth more than any thing alive in Wealdland.

  Grisn looked over at his sister, who nodded.

  "We help," Grisn creaked.

  "Thank you," the Archer said, and then led the massive beasts to the water's edge. "It's down there, perhaps a league out,
on the bottom."

  "Big hole down there," Grisn said.

  "A big hole?" The Archer mused. "Of course, you've been swimming around these waters. The Lhalíi probably blasted a hole in the lakebed when it hit, when this was once a lake, and not a sea. Have you gone into the hole?" The Archer asked Grisn.

  "Too dark, no light."

  "Too dark," the Archer repeated, his mind racing, searching for a solution.

  "Use Bravilc," Grisn said.

  "Use Bravilc- How-"

  "You made Shiningsword work," Grisn creaked. "Over there."

  The Archer looked over at the collapsed heap of boulders. He remembered the flash of light.

  "I made- That was me?" The Archer examined the elvish blade in his hands. "But I don't know how I made it work..."

  "You work it again," Grisn said with certainty.

  "And you'll carry me down into the hole, under the water," Derragen worriedly considered the plan. "I can only hold my breath for so long. There will probably be vyreeoten down there."

  "Vyreeoten down there," Grisn confirmed.

  "Wonderful," the Archer breathed. "Very well. If I make the sword shine, and we get the crystal, even if I drown, or I'm eaten by a vyreeoten, you must promise me that you will take the Lhalíi to the elf, Iounelle. She is in Lanis right now. Do you promise?"

  "You not drown," Grisn said with a certainty that the Archer did not share.

  "Not eaten by vyreeoten," Josr said with meaning, her huge eyes squinting.

  "Then what are we waiting for?" The Archer said with gentle, yet frightened sarcasm.

  Derragen, Grisn, and Josr walked down to the water softly lapping at the sand of the sea's edge. The surf had died down, and there was virtually no wind. The day was dead and holding its breath. The falling night was suffocating.

  The sun was low in the west behind them, breaking through the banks of clouds, as they faced east and the vast colorless expanse of water before them.

  "Just jump in," the Archer said to himself, but the Kaprk-Uusshu took his mutterings as a prompt, and both leapt into the water with a joyful splash. It was clear that the ocean was their natural element. The huge beast's bodies undulated in the salty brine. Josr rolled over several times, obviously luxuriating in being freed and back where she belonged. The Archer wondered how long Josr had been Deifol Hroth's captive. The female Kaprk-Uusshu turned to look at the Archer, an invitation.