The Last Elf of Lanis

by Hargan, K. J.

  “We have been remiss,” she said. “We have left Our country and Our station to save my own life and the lives of my daughter and grandchild. We see now, Our life belongs to you, the people. We will not abandon you, even though my husband and grandson are missing. We will no longer be ruled by fear. I will carry only courage in my heart, and I will give it all to you, the people of the Weald.”

  With that, Alrhett fainted. She was carried inside to her bedroom, as the outrage and anger of the people grew.

  Alrhett slept all through the night and woke with the first rays of the morning sun. For a forgetful moment she was happy. Then she sat straight upright as the previous night’s infamy rushed into her mind.

  “Has there been word of my husband, Yulenth!?” She cried to a guard standing silently in her room.

  “He has not been... found,” the guard said, then he excused himself from the room.

  Meybonne, Prensy, and Kindoll quietly entered, and helped Alrhett bathe and dress.

  “I can never repay what your sons, your husbands, have given me,” Alrhett said to the women.

  “You can, by ridding our land of the vipers that run it,” Prensy said.

  “It is why they chose to do what they did,” Kindoll added.

  “The court has already called for you,” Meybonne said.

  “Good,” Alrhett said with determination. “I will begin repaying my debt immediately. Prensy, I need for you to ask the Master of the Library to join us at the court this morning.”

  Prensy curtsied and left on her errand.

  As Alrhett made her way to the court, a grim phalanx of armed citizens of over a hundred surrounded her on all sides. And she made no effort or speech to calm or control them.

  The crowd had grown by three times as they reached the court. All was ominously quiet. Alrhett was admitted, and no attempt was made to keep the citizens, who were silent and fiery eyed, from filling the spectator's stands.

  The judges quietly filed into the court room and took their seats at the raised bench.

  The Lords of Rogar Li arrived and rudely pushed their way into the better seats in the galleries on either side of the great wooden hall. Some waved at Alrhett with friendliness while others glared with icy stares.

  “Order, order,” Summeninquis solemnly intoned as he slowly banged his gavel. “This court is in session. We are here to try former queen Alrhett for the murder of Lord Argotine.”

  The great hall was as silent as a tomb.

  “Although our previous sessions were fraught with emotionality,” the judge continued, “we will see justice done here, without prejudice or sympathy.”

  The judge’s backhanded apology received another chilly silence.

  “Very well,” he said. “We will continue with the presentation of evidence. Hmmm. The Glaf isn’t present. Did he not wish to attend?”

  “My husband, Yulenth of Glaf, is missing,” was all that Alrhett said.

  “I’m very sorry,” Summeninquis said without emotion. “But we must continue without him. His brief and unspecific testimony was entered into the record anyway. Now, if there is no further inquiry-“

  “I have several witnesses I wish to examine,” Alrhett interrupted.

  “But, I thought,” Summeninquis stammered. “I thought we-“

  Summeninquis took in the deadly, frozen faces glaring at him in the galleries.

  “Of course,” he backpedaled, “every line of evidence must be followed. Please proceed. But know,” he paused for effect, “that all charges and testimony will be challenged.”

  “Thank you,” Alrhett said. “May I please call the Master of the Library.”

  A puzzled buzz ran through the crowd.

  A bent over, elderly man with large, white, bushy eyebrows entered weakly clutching Prensy’s arm.

  He was led to a chair placed in the center of the hall, facing the judges.

  Alrhett rose and walked to him.

  “You are the Master of the Library?” Alrhett asked in officious tones.

  “Of course you know it’s me, my dear Alrhett,” the Master of the Library said with affection. “Why I haven’t seen you pouring over stories of the heroics of the elder Kings for some time. Where have you been?”

  “Please,” Alrhett said with kindness. “We are in court. State your name for the court, please.”

  “Oh,” the Master said suddenly straightening up in his chair. Then with a wink he said, “sorry, my queen.” Then he cleared his throat and with a very serious face said, “I am Nostacarr, Master of the Library of the great city Rogar Li, capitol of the Blessed Weald.”

  The crushing crowd pleasantly murmured at his patriotism.

  “As Master of the Library, Nostacarr, you are responsible for the recording of history, not only of the Weald, but also Wealdland in general?” Alrhett probed.

  “Yes, yes,” Nostacarr said. “All history. Why did you know the king of the Madrun Hills was here just over seven days ago? He was begging for help and protection from the Weald. You see, it seems-“

  “Please just answer the questions as they are put to you, Master,” Alrhett kindly said to stop the old man from rambling.

  “Hmm? Oh. Of course. Sorry,” Nostacarr said, then smiled.

  “In that history, Nostacarr, has the royalty or even the Lords of the Weald ever, and I repeat ever, resorted to black magic?”

  “Black magic, hmm,” Nostacarr thought. “There have been some accusations which were later discredited.”

  “Actual proven instances, please,” Alrhett urged.

  “No,” the Master of the Library searched his great intellect. “As, a matter of record, I can state under oath, that there has been no instance of magic used by any wealdkin for centuries.”

  “But there is magic in use today?” Alrhett continued.

  “Magic?” Nostacarr seemed to perk up. “Oh yes. There’s that unspeakable fellow the messenger guild has been following around.”

  “Deifol Hroth?”

  “Yes, him,” Nostacarr rubbed his tired old legs. “And the elves...”

  “The elves,” Alrhett seemed to hit on a thread she wanted. “Tell us of the elves.”

  “Well,” the old man said, “as we know, they are all gone, killed by that miserable garond army. But they definitely used magic on a daily basis.”

  “For evil?” Alrhett asked.

  “Evil?!” The old man chortled. “An elf could do no evil magic if you held a sword to its throat. It’s not in their nature. Tied too closely to the earth. Black magic is unnatural, unearthly. That’s right.”

  “What are some of the good, or earthly magical things you know, for certain, in your records, that the elves could do?” Alrhett examined.

  “Well,” Nostacarr rubbed his grizzled face, “we know that they move exceedingly fast. Sometimes faster than the human eye can follow. Don’t know rightly if that’s magic, could just be that they’re fast,” he chuckled. “They have eyesight and hearing better than any human, again that might be a simple physical attribute. I don’t see-“

  “Please think,” Alrhett urged.

  “Oh, oh,” the old man perked up. “They talk to animals as plain as you or I talk to one another. That must be magical.”

  “Animal speak/hear?”

  “That’s what it’s called,” Nostacarr said with pleasure. “They have the ability-“

  Suddenly, an out of breath young man broke into the courtroom, “The guild, the messenger guild!” He cried.

  The whole court was astir.

  A lanky, dust covered young man strode into the court.

  “If it pleases the court,” the young man bowed, “all the Lords are here, so...”

  “If it is urgent news,” Summeninquis boomed, “then out with it.”

  “There was a great battle in the Madrun Hills,” the messenger said. “Thousands upon thousands of garonds attacked the town of Plymonley, where every Madronite had gathered. It was certain doom for these humans.”

&nb
sp; “And we denied help to their king!” A voice cried from the gallery.

  “But,” the messenger held up his hand. “A great victory for Madrun. An archer from Kipleth performed a miracle and slew a great number of the garonds. The garond army returned in defeat to their camp in Harvestley.”

  A murmur of panic and worry rippled through the crowd.

  “There’s more,” the messenger said, “There’s more!” The crowd quieted. “The general of the garond army, Ravensdred, offers a treaty of peace to the Weald, and a promise to not attack or molest her people, if they but refrain from aiding or interfering with his dispute with the armies of Reia and her allies.”

  “Impossible!” A voice cried out.

  “We must join Reia!” Another citizen cried.

  “No! The Weald for the Weald!” Another voice yelled. Then all was tumult as Summeninquis banged his gavel.

  “We rest for today!” Summeninquis hollered above the confusion. “We will continue tomorrow!” And then, the judges filed out of the courtroom.

  Ushered safely back to the palace, Alrhett was surrounded on all sides by Lords who now took her side, and begged for, or against, joining the armies at Tyny. Finally she could stand no more and had the room cleared, except for Meybonne, Prensy, and Kindoll.

  “Does every session of court end in such confusion?” Alrhett asked Meybonne.

  “It seems in these days, confusion is normality,” Meybonne sadly said.

  “Stralain, the captain of the army wishes to speak to you,” Prensy said from the front door.

  “Present him,” Alrhett said.

  Stralain, the captain who led the forces at the siege of the Three Bridges of Rogar Li entered and swept in with a respectful bow. He was tall and muscular. And he led with a daring courage, making him much beloved by the wealdkin. “My queen,” he said, “I have found no trace of Yulenth, I am sad to report.”

  “Thank you,” was all that Alrhett quietly said.

  “My queen,” Stralain carefully continued with a twinkle in his eye, “if you command the army, we will obey.”

  “The bravery and loyalty of the armies of the Weald are beyond measure,” Alrhett kindly said. The captain bowed low and excused himself.

  “More and more,” Meybonne softly said, “the wealdkin look to you for leadership.”

  “I cannot lead them,” Alrhett said, “until I have completely cleared my name, and wriggled free of the grasp of that judge.” The women agreed with their silence.

  The rest of the day was spent admitting Lords, captains, and officials who all tried to win political favor with Alrhett. By the end of the day, she was exhausted, although the capitol still hummed with the frightful news of the looming war.

  Late that night Meybonne woke with the sound of Alrhett’s voice. She heard her say, “Good, good, make sure every one of them attends.”

  Meybonne entered the chamber to find Alrhett alone, standing in her room.

  “Yes?” Alrhett asked.

  “I heard voices,” Meybonne said.

  “All is well,” Alrhett said. “Return to sleep.”

  Meybonne returned to her cot just outside the queen’s chamber, and stared up into the darkness, filled with questions, fearing her queen was losing her sanity.

  In the morning, Alrhett was filled with nervous energy. Her new friends noticed and they knew she was worried about her trial. The morning languished into the afternoon without the judges calling for court to begin.

  “They are calling for a general gathering,” Kindoll entering said.

  “What about my trial?” Alrhett asked.

  “There has been no call for the trial to resume,” she answered.

  The women went together to a large open area at the very bottom of the city. This was where the messenger guild usually delivered news that would be of general interest to every citizen of Rogar Li. The spacious area was surrounded on all sides by massive trees, the very supports of the city. It was dark, as little sunlight got through the houses and halls in the treetops overhead. In the common area, here on the ground, the poor set up humble shops along the edges of the square.

  When Alrhett and her friends arrived, the darkened square was already choked with the citizens of Rogar Li. Alrhett recognized Summeninquis and his judges in a reserved space, and every other Lord and official was in attendance.

  “This is why court is not in session,” Meybonne said.

  “It must be grave news,” Prensy agreed.

  A lanky, young man of the messenger guild stood up on a platform so he could be heard and seen by the throng. The mass of people quieted.

  “As you all know,” the messenger began, “we have been watching carefully the movements of the garond army in Wealdland.”

  “Spying, he means” Kindoll whispered, and was quickly hushed.

  “We have reported on the slaughter last year, in Lanis of the elf population, to their very extinction. We have reported on the ruin of both Glafemen and Ethgeow. Just yesterday, the Madronites fended off an advance by the garond army, but all her people have left the Madrun Hills for the western lands. And, you may have heard that an army of all nations of humans is being gathered at Tyny to make war on the garond army being led by a garond called Ravensdred.”

  “Dark times,” Alrhett breathed to herself.

  “Haerreth, son of Healfdene, king of the Green Hills of Reia, respectfully asks the armies and people of the Weald to join him, and all the humans left in Wealdland, to fight the garond menace.”

  A long silence followed.

  “A formal request,” Alrhett worriedly whispered to Meybonne, who just shook her head.

  “The Weald for the Weald!” A voice cried.

  And then a pandemonium of dissent went up on all sides.

  The messenger raised his hands to try to quiet the people of Rogar Li, and finally they respected his gesture.

  “There is some last, other news from the messenger guild,” the young man said. “Our sources tell us that the garond force in Harvestley has doubled in size the last two days. And that, Deifol Hroth will arrive in Wealdland tonight, to lead his army.”

  The news stunned the audience. The people quietly left for their homes with an ominous, worrisome gloom hanging over all the inhabitants of the city.

  A soldier respectfully approached Alrhett. “Great Judge Summeninquis wishes to reconvene immediately,” he said.

  “Good, tell him I will attend directly,” Alrhett told him.

  Once again the great hall of the judges was full of spectators, but a quiet dread hung over the people with the recent, fearful news.

  “Court is in session.” Summeninquis banged his gavel. “Do you wish,” he asked Alrhett, “to continue examining the Master of the Library?”

  “If it pleases the court,” she answered.

  The Master of the Library was seated and Alrhett rose to continue questioning him.

  “Nostacarr,” Alrhett said, “we were discussing animal speak/hear.”

  “Ah, yes,” the old man scratched his ear. “Animal speak/hear is known to have been a trait of the elves. The elfish people could converse with any animal as easily as you or I speak to one another.”

  “Do any humans possess this ability?” She asked.

  “There is no record of it,” he answered.

  “If an elf and a human were to have a child, might that child have that ability?” Alrhett asked.

  “I suppose,” Nostacarr mused.

  “Would this be considered a black, or evil magic?” Alrhett asked.

  “Oh heavens no!” Nostacarr smiled. “It would be a blessing.”

  “Is there any record of an elf and a human becoming husband and wife?” Alrhett asked leaning forward.

  “Ah!” Nostacarr’s eyes sparkled. “Now we come to my area of expertise. Yes. In the three hundredth and forty second year of the fourth age, immediately following the Great Elf Human War, Garrethent, the two hundredth and fifty sixth King of the Weald took to wife Whi
nnappalle, a princess of Lanis. This name and location suggests she was an elf. Many scholars have disputed this. However, the record does not clearly say she was not.”

  Then the enormity of the line of questioning dawned on the clever old man.

  “You are saying,” Nostacarr, the Master of the Library said, “that Whinnappalle WAS an elf and you possess, through your royal heritage, the power of animal speak/hear.”

  The great hall was shocked into silence.

  “I wish to call my eye witnesses,” Alrhett cried to Summeninquis.

  Then she turned to old Nostacarr. “Thank you,” she quietly said with a smile and a pat on his bony shoulder.

  “Open the doors!” Alrhett cried. And on cue, Prensy and Kindoll heaved open the massive doors of the great hall.

  In flapped eight, black crows, which then settled, wings beating, all about the witness chair.

  “Where is the ninth?” Alrhett asked. “Are you out there?” Alrhett boomed to the open doors. A ninth crow, with embarrassment, hopped into the chamber, squawked apologies and settled with his brethren.

  “You were witness to the slaying of the man in the meadow, is that correct?” Alrhett asked the crows, who began all loudly croaking at once.

  “Please, please,” Alrhett held up her hands. “One at a time.”

  The nine crows then croaked a single caw, one after another to the astonishment of the gathered audience.

  “Please speak up if you saw me doing any violence to that man,” Alrhett instructed the black feathered witnesses. The crows continually preened and fidgeted, but none cawed.

  “Do you see,” Alrhett swept her hand over the crowd, “here in this room, the one who slew that man, whom we called Lord Argotine?”

  The crows began to excitedly caw and croak, flapping and bowing.

  “Go to him,” she said. The nine crows flew up with fury and flapped around Lord Stavolebe, who slunk into his seat.

  “It was self-defense!” Stavolebe cried swatting at the crows.

  “Thank you, no further questions,” Alrhett called to the crows. The large black birds circled the court room, and then sailed out the great doors.

  “I wish to examine Lord Stavolebe!” Alrhett cried to Summeninquis.