The Lord Of Lightning (Book 3)

by K. J. Hargan

  The sun's golden rays began to lance across the morning sky, turning the tops of the highest trees a shining gold. The day turned a bright blue, as every black shadow fled. The east was a brilliant, white beacon of warmth. Birds that had been solemnly, reluctantly greeting the new day, now burst into ever increasing choruses of urgency as if to spur the elf on.

  Iounelle kicked her horse into a sprint as it splashed through water up to the beast's knees. Then Iounelle pulled her horse to a halt. Halldora and Caerlund pulled up behind her.

  Iounelle's face was a study of bewilderment. She pointed to an outcropping of rock that rose above the lapping waters of a shallow shore.

  "That is the remains of the Houses of the Princes," she said in confusion. Iounelle got off her horse, still holding the sleeping child. She dipped down a free hand and tasted the water.

  "It's the sea," Iounelle said in sad wonder. "The sea is covering my city." Then Iounelle quickly handed the baby to Halldora. The child instantly awoke and began to cry once again.

  Iounelle sloshed through the low waves to the remains of a chimney and foundations of a house that was laid waste by the invading garonds.

  "This was the home of my Great Aunt Silfliette," Iounelle said to Halldora and Caerlund as they approached. "Good. The wall still stands. Here. See this hole in the wall?"

  Iounelle pointed to a gap in a remaining stonewall.

  "That was for Allgr," Iounelle stopped to think of a translation, but let the notion drop. "The sun on the morning of Droneldyth, Flower Day, thirty days before Lengdyth Narlime, will show the stone in the chimney to look behind."

  Halldora and Caerlund exchanged a look of puzzlement.

  The rising, morning sun shone a lance of light through the gap in the wall to a spot on the white cut stones of the chimney. Every stone of the chimney was cut to such precision; it would have been impossible to tell one from the other without the mark of the morning sun shining through the hole in the wall opposite. The chimney must have once been a wonder to behold with its beautiful, symmetrical, white stones, but use by the garonds had blackened and ruined the fireplace.

  "There!" Iounelle cried, as she waded to the stack of weathered, mortared stones.

  "What lies behind the stone?" Caerlund asked.

  "My mother's ring," Iounelle said with breathlessness.

  "Does it have magic power?" Halldora asked in amazement.

  "The most magic of powers," Iounelle said turning with a tear filled smile. "It reminds me of my mother."

  Then Iounelle froze as she laid her hand on the square, white stone. It was loose. She slowly removed the stone, and felt inside. The space was empty.

  Iounelle fell to her knees in the water and wept.

  Caerlund splashed to her side and threw a large arm around her shoulders.

  "They took it," Iounelle said through her tears, as she looked up at Caerlund.

  Halldora approached and laid a hand on Caerlund's shoulder.

  Iounelle had seen the relationship building between the two humans and it filled her with a little hope. When she had announced her plan to return to her city, they both immediately volunteered to accompany her.

  Iounelle stood and took the crying child from Halldora. Once again the baby immediately quieted in the elf's arms.

  "This life is so filled with so much useless pain and sorrow, Caerlund, so much hurtful pettiness and spite," Iounelle said to the Chieftain of the Madrun Hills. "Perhaps this child and I should just walk off into the sea."

  "Nonsense!" Caerlund boomed. He rose and surveyed the drowning, remains of the ruined elvish capital. "I remember Lanis Rhyl Landemiriam as it once was. I remember its glory. Do you think those who built this city would want us to give up? Do you think they raised this wondrous city for us to forget it? Do you think future generations, human, elf, or garond would like us to give up? Forget? Surrender? Let Deifol Hroth win?

  "We have a responsibility, my elvish lass, a responsibility to all of time, to those before, to those to come, to ourselves, to fight, and win against the darkness. Yes, sometimes the despoilers win. Sometimes those we love are killed or lost. But, our will can never be defeated. Our will can never be taken. Our will can only be given if we surrender.

  "I will never give my life, my mind, and my heart to the darkness. I will fight, and I know you will, too. For, you know the glory of the light, like the glory that once was a city raised by a people filled with love and kindness.

  "You say your mother's ring has the power to remind you of her smile, her love, her life? Will you let that pass into the nothingness that the Dark One wants to bring?! Never!

  "Love is kept in the living, and passed along to future generations. That is what we fight for, the right to remember, and be remembered; the right to love and live as we please without fear; the right to dream and shape the world for those to come. Your mother's ring may be lost or stolen, but her love is eternal and will always be with you."

  Iounelle rose.

  "I have let despair rule my heart for too long," Iounelle said and smiled down at the sleeping human baby in her arms.

  Then as if galvanized by a thought Iounelle turned.

  "Come!" She cried to Halldora and Caerlund.

  The three climbed the rock outcropping that stood just above the encroaching sea, that was once the Houses of the Princes. What remained of the foundations cut into the stone was covered with lines of elvish writing carved into the rock.

  Iounelle seemed to be following a certain line of script. Then she stopped.

  "Here," she said pointing down at the carved stone. "Krennaupak," Iounelle said down to the rock, and then she turned to Caerlund to explain. "Armory." Iounelle held very still as she dredged up a memory from long ago. Then she brightened.

  "Here," she pressed a stone, "and here." She fumbled with the baby as she pressed another part of the carving. A large, carefully hidden, rock door slowly dropped open, down to a dark cache. "We'll take only swords and shields," Iounelle said with excitement.

  "Elvish swords and shields," Halldora, impressed, said to Caerlund, who returned a vicious smile and winked.

  The three loaded their horses with as many weapons and shields as their horses could carry.

  "We can send warriors back for more," Caerlund said.

  "Do not take any of the strange weapons," Iounelle cautioned, "you'll do more damage to yourself than the enemy."

  "Now let us go back and bury the babe's parents," Caerlund urged, and Iounelle nodded in approval.

  "Wait!" Halldora cried, spying a glint in the water. She splashed off her horse and carefully felt under the softly lapping waves. Halldora held up a silver and gold bracelet from the silt and salt water. The bracelet was skillfully worked to resemble curling branches of a tree reaching and intertwining.

  "That belonged to a friend of mine," Iounelle said with a smile. "It was made by my great uncle Weylund. Please keep it with my blessings, Halldora."

  "No, No I couldn't-"

  "Did you not accompany me," Iounelle said with a knowing smile, "to try to rekindle my faith in life?"

  Halldora bowed her head in embarrassment.

  "Please accept this as a token of my gratitude for your success," Iounelle said as she cradled the baby.

  Halldora slipped the bracelet on her wrist.

  "Oh, it's warm," Halldora exclaimed.

  "These are the arms of Mildarilg, the world tree," Iounelle said pointing to the bracelet. "The inscription says, 'Wisdom keeps you safe always'."

  The three rode out of the Drowning City through the Wood of Lanis, retracing their path to the River Hye, where Iounelle slew the ghaunt.

  They rode slowly through the forest as their horses were heavily laden. The day was warmer than it had been for many moonths, and it seemed right to take in the beauty of Lanis at a slow walk. Iounelle turned to Caerlund.

  "Have you ever heard the poem/song Veranelle dae Galehthaire?" The elf asked the madronite.

  "No," Caerlu
nd answered. "I would like to hear it some day. My favorite song, however, is the Ballad of Sehen."

  "I knew him," Iounelle said with a smile. "The Blind Sage was welcomed and well loved in my city."

  Then Iounelle grew silent, and Caerlund was sorry he had mentioned the ballad.

  As their horses plodded through the forest of Lanis, Iounelle thought to herself that the woods seemed stunted and sickly. Normally, by this time of year, the elms and oaks would be lush, a full, green canopy. The scrub and bushes that usually filled out the forest floor were spindly and empty of leaves. It seemed that the whole world held its breath, waiting, waiting to see. Would light prevail, or would darkness take the whole of Wealdland?

  The morning sun cast golden shafts through the scarce thicket of leaves overhead. The day was begun in earnest, and every shadow banished. But, the Wood of Lanis was uncharacteristically colorless and grim. The songs of the birds and insects, begun in earnest in the morning, now dwindled to sparse twitters. A heavy quiet hung over the forest.

  Even the birds have no songs of hope or cheerfulness, Iounelle sorrowfully thought to herself, as they plodded on through the eerily quiet woods, to the River Hye.

  The babe in her arms slept with a peaceful smile of serenity.

  As the riders passed their former camp, the sound of the River Hye softly babbling could be heard through the complete quiet of the forest of Lanis.

  Iounelle felt uneasy as they approached the place of last night's battle. She silently signaled for the others to stop and dismount. The three, filled with a dread apprehension, approached the place of slaughter.

  Suddenly, the baby cried out, loud and long. Iounelle tried to quiet the infant. Then, from the corner of her eye, she caught some movement, near where the bodies of the baby's parents lay.

  "There is a carrion animal up ahead," Iounelle whispered to Halldora and Caerlund. "Careful." The elf then led the two humans cautiously forward.

  As they neared the bodies of the babe's parents, all was unnaturally still. There was no sign of any animal. But it was clear that something had been eating the human remains.

  "We should have buried them," Caerlund whispered to himself in angry disgust.

  "I'm sorry, Caerlund," the elf whispered. "But, keep your eyes up. There is something nearby."

  "These are not the teeth marks of wolf, lion, or any animal I recognize," Caerlund said with growing dismay. "See, the teeth are too wide apart."

  "Caerlund," Iounelle whispered.

  "Where is the creature?" Halldora said aloud.

  Just then, the ghaunt lurched from behind a tree. The stump where its arm was severed worked with a gruesome bloodlessness. With its remaining hand, it clutched its long, black spear. Fresh blood caked its grim, lipless maw, long decaying teeth dripping. Sunlight shone through the large hole in its chest, where Iounelle had plunged her sword with a killing stroke.

  A high, unnerving scream began to wail from the monster's dark, gaping mouth as it charged.

  Iounelle easily deflected the ghaunt's spear thrust, but her poorly made human sword shattered with the clash. Iounelle kicked the monster with a force that drove the tall creature flat onto its back.

  The elf spun, handed the baby to Halldora and sprinted for the swords tied to her nearby horse. Iounelle angrily muttered a chastisement to herself for not immediately arming herself with an elvish sword when she brought the swords up from the armory.

  Iounelle could hear the striking of Caerlund's battle-axe against the ghaunt's spear as she rushed to extract an elvish sword, all the while the baby cried, long and loud.

  Iounelle ran back to the fight to find Halldora had placed the infant on the ground, drawn her sword and joined Caerlund to fight the monster.

  Iounelle leapt. With her elvish strength and speed, she was five times as strong and as fast as any human. As Iounelle leapt with all her might, she cleared the heads of Caerlund and Halldora. She had to twist her head to the right to keep from being decapitated by Caerlund's errant back swing.

  The elf whipped her silver, bright sword out in front of her body, and landed with a thud with the sword embedded in the ghaunt's face, up to the hilt. The creature showed no signs of death or stopping. It dropped its spear and grabbed Iounelle's leg. With a supernatural strength it swung the elf to the ground with a mighty crash.

  Iounelle could feel the blackness of unconsciousness edging her vision. She shook her head and leapt to her feet. Caerlund swung his broad, double bladed battle-axe, and the swing took his axe clear through the creature's chest. The ghaunt, with the elvish sword still embedded between its eyes, opened its vile mouth to bite Caerlund. But the hilt of Iounelle's sword hit Caerlund in the head and prevented the ghaunt from biting down.

  Halldora grabbed Caerlund and dragged him back, his axe lost.

  With its remaining hand, the ghaunt withdrew the elvish sword from its head with a sickening, dry rasping sound. Both Caerlund and Iounelle were weaponless. The creature circled Halldora with the elvish sword.

  "Go around it and get your axe!" Halldora cried to Caerlund, who found his feet and scuttled to flank the ghaunt.

  The creature shuddered and jerked as it tried to decide whom to attack next.

  "Give me the sword!" Iounelle cried to Halldora, who kept a close eye on the creature circling her.

  "Pick up the baby! It wants the baby!" Halldora cried, suddenly realizing the ghaunt was trying to circle around to get to the infant lying in the leaves of the forest.

  Iounelle stopped to pick up the baby, just as the ghaunt, with height to its advantage, brought down a vicious overhand strike at Halldora.

  Halldora deflected the blow with effort, but the creature quickly struck again, driving Halldora to one knee.

  The ghaunt raised the elvish sword for a third strike, but Caerlund lifted the decaying creature's head from its bony shoulders with his battle-axe.

  "There!" Caerlund boomed as the ghaunt crumpled. "That's what we do to evil monsters, such as you!"

  "Be careful!" Iounelle called.

  From a prone position, the headless ghaunt swung the elvish sword back, and struck Caerlund hard in the chest, piercing right through his armor.

  "No!" Iounelle cried, setting down the baby. Iounelle was to the ghaunt with one step. She tore the elvish sword from the monster's hand, and proceeded to hack the ghaunt until it was nothing more than a pile of writhing body parts.

  Halldora picked up the unharmed baby, and rushed to Caerlund.

  The sword had cut deep into his chest, and the wound bled profusely.

  "I wanted to be at the battle when we beat that bastard, Deifol Hroth," Caerlund said with a tired smile.

  "You will be there," Halldora lied, knowing there was nothing she could do to save the Chieftain of the Madrun Hills.

  "Caerlund!" Iounelle cried. "We can take you back to Lanis Rhyl Landemiriam. The pool Welm is still under the encroaching sea. It can heal you!"

  "I will not make the journey, my elvish lass," Caerlund quietly said. "I am the last of my line. I have no heir. Do not let the madronite lords argue over the throne. I give it to Arnwylf."

  "But he is lost, most probably drowned," Halldora said through her tears.

  "He is alive," Caerlund said with effort. "I feel it. I know it. I wish I could see him triumphant over that Dark Bastard. But I must go now. Halldora, I know you've felt it these last days. And now as I die I have no fear of saying it. I love you. I only wish we could have had more days together. But they were enough."

  "No, my love," Halldora smiled through her tears. "We will have many more days together. We will rebuild Kenethley and Ethgeow and make a new kingdom of our houses, and our children will be fierce and orange haired like you."

  And thus, defending those he loved, Caerlund, the mighty Chieftain of the Madrun Hills died.

  Iounelle held Halldora, who was inconsolable.

  The sun rose to its height and warmed the forest. Birds began to sing in sweet, sad, melancholic st
rains as if they knew that a great and noble man had left them.

  Iounelle built a small fire to burn the still convulsing pieces of the ghaunt.

  Halldora, who had knelt by Caerlund's side the whole morning, rose to help.

  As the last foul piece of the ghaunt was heaped onto the flames, Halldora held out her hands and screamed in anger.

  The fire rose into a flashing blaze that quickly crisped the evil fuel to blackened ashes.

  Iounelle and Halldora looked at one another in astonishment. Halldora looked at her hands with puzzlement. She was unharmed. There were no bun marks, or signs of injury from the fire that had flowed from her hands.

  "You must have the blood of the auhrm in you," Iounelle said with wonder. "Some elves, who could manipulate fire as you have just done, were said to be the children of the auhrm. You must have elvish blood in you."

  Halldora stared at the flames. "There was a legend among my people," Halldora said through her tears, "that the Islands of Fjindel in the provinces of Man, from whence I came, were settled by an elf who loved a human woman after the Elf Human Wars."

  "I see a great design in this," Iounelle quietly said. "I was led to Bittel, a hidden and insignificant village. But, Alrhett, her daughter, Wynnfrith, and grandson Arnwylf had an elvish bloodline. And you, and your daughter, Frea, are also of an elvish bloodline. This is no coincidence. I was led to the last of my blood, to help me defeat the Great Evil."

  "Before we fled Ethgeow, my mother and I both had the same dream, that elves were leading us through the meadowland," Halldora quietly said. "I thought at the time that we were supposed to go to Lanis. But I understand now that we were always meant to find Kellabald and his little village."

  "I too had a dream of Bittel," Iounelle said with wonder, "the day before I came upon it. I thought nothing of it at the time."

  Halldora was silent with grief.

  "I see now," Iounelle said as she cradled the sleeping baby, "that I was saved by the Great Parent, from the destruction of my city and people. I was led to the remnant of my race hidden in the bloodline of humans who had been gathered at a specific place. I think that a Hidden Hand may have organized all our efforts from a great distance. Whether for good or ill, I know not."