The Archer From Kipleth (Book 2)

by K. J. Hargan

  Frea and Ronenth approached.

  “Who was weeping?” Frea asked.

  “No one,” Garmee Gamee said with a wrinkled smile.

  Frea turned to Ronenth. “I am receiving Hetwing, daughter to Healfdene, king of Reia. I must see if she has arrived.”

  “I will wait for you here,” Ronenth stoically said.

  After Frea was gone Garmee Gamee said, “So you are Ronenth, the last of the Glafs.”

  “Yes,” Ronenth said. “But, there are two other Glafs. But they are very old.”

  “So you must never go to war,” Garmee Gamee said.

  “Why?” Ronenth asked with a sudden scowl.

  “It would mean the end of your people,” Garmee Gamee said with practiced innocence. “No one would doubt your courage or bravery. Why I’m sure no one needs your sword on the battle lines in Lanis or in the North. Why you’re probably not needed in Byland, even. Preserving your line is much more important. Think of it! What if there were no more Glafs!”

  “No, I mean yes,” Ronenth mumbled. “It would be awful.”

  “And Frea wouldn’t mind,” Garmee Gamee said with a smile.

  “What do you mean?” Ronenth darkly asked.

  “Oh, I thought you and she,” Garmee Gamee stumbled with false precision. “I thought you had feelings for her.”

  “I do have feelings for her,” Ronenth blurted. “Just not ‘those’ feelings.”

  “No?” Garmee Gamee wormed. “It seemed... You seemed so hurt when she... Oh, but never mind. A Glaf is always truthful, yes. Why, no one need be afraid of the truth. And you are courageous and brave. So why would you need fear telling Frea...”

  “What?” Ronenth said, his mind on fire. “What?”

  “’What’ indeed,” Frea blithely said, returning.

  Ronenth tensely turned to face Frea. He suddenly stiffened like a puppet.

  “Frea,” he said, his dark features turning red. “Frea.”

  “Yes?” Frea asked with growing annoyance.

  Ronenth seemed to be physically struggling with forming the feelings in his heart for which he had not yet found the right words. “I am not afraid!” Ronenth blurted, and then ran from the courtyard holding back his tears.

  “Ronenth!” Frea called, then turned to Garmee Gamee. “What was that about?” Frea demanded.

  “I do not know” Garmee Gamee lied. “But let me see to him. You have the business of your Kingdom which needs your attention.” And, she rushed after Ronenth.

  Garmee Gamee caught Ronenth at the gate to Frea’s mansion.

  “Leave me be,” he said to her.

  “Oh, no,” Garmee Gamee said shaking her bleached locks. “I am your greatest supporter. I will not leave you now. So...”

  “Then be silent,” Ronenth dejectedly said, as they walked through the bustle of New Rogar Li.

  The new city was unlike any city ever built before in Wealdland. The large square structures in the city created closed, narrow avenues and alleys unlike any city ever seen before. The residents were all so eager to cram their houses and shops into the city that so consideration of space or parks was even thought of. The new city felt confined and too open at the same time, with no trees to shade or break the unending vista of box-like houses and halls.

  A soft snow began to fall.

  In the near distance a group of men yelled and huffed as they dragged a large wheeled wagon with a tank through the sleet and mud of the wide street.

  “Give way! Give way!” They called. The fog of the breath of the new Fire Control Squad wreathed the men like a cloud of desperation.

  “How large a fire can they stop with that little water jug?” Garmee Gamee snorted, pathetically laughing at her own joke. “They would be lucky to stop a child’s camp fire.” Garmee Gamee looked for approval from Ronenth, but his eyes were filled with sorrow and confusion, and his face dark.

  “Do not think about her,” Garmee Gamee said. “It will only make things worse. Why you should think about all the wonderful things being built here in New Rogar Li. This city is being built so fast, it looks like a child’s toy box turned upside-down.” Garmee Gamee looked again for approval from Ronenth, but his dark countenance was now replaced with a scowl.

  “Here you are!” An elderly man said approaching.

  “What now, Yulenth?” Ronenth moaned.

  “You were due in the library at mid day,” the white haired man scolded.

  “I’m headed there now,” Ronenth mumbled.

  “You have kept me, Solienth and Nostacarr, the master of the library, waiting for the whole day. It’s nearly night!” Yulenth exclaimed.

  “I am Garmee Gamee,” the painted woman said with studied cheerfulness.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Yulenth said without looking at her. “The fate of the written word is resting squarely on your shoulders,” he said to Ronenth.

  “Why should I care about the written word!” Ronenth snapped as they walked briskly towards the library. “I should be out in the field, with a sword in my hand. I should be in Byland, keeping more garonds from invading our land. But you and Solienth keep me cooped up in that empty barn like a fragile glass vase. The last Glaf! I wish I was dead already! My strength and skill are being wasted in this stinking city.”

  The three arrived at the new library of New Rogar Li. It was an impressive building. It had a stone base the size of ten houses, ornately cut. It’s wooden floors rose in stepped platforms imitating the shape of the Old Rogar Li, lost to the ashes. On every wall were paintings of the titanic trees long gone to the Great Fire.

  “I am not your son, nor your slave,” Ronenth hotly said turning to face Yulenth, whose elderly countenance creased with genuine sorrow and care. Then, the dark haired young man stormed into the looming edifice.

  “He is usually so cheerful,” Yulenth said with a sad, wry smile.

  “He is a good man,” Garmee Gamee said as she followed Yulenth into the library. “He has many worries on his mind. And it is hard to command a child whom you love as your own, but who is not.”

  At the massive doors, carved of a light yellow pine, depicting animals and birds of the Weald, Yulenth stopped to look at Garmee Gamee with a soul searching gaze.

  “He, Solienth and I are the last of our race,” Yulenth said with reproaching wonder. “We could not be more closely tied by blood.”

  “Yes,” Garmee Gamee said as she entered the vast library with Yulenth. “But, at the end of the day, he is not your son. So... Oh, my.” Garmee Gamee stared up at the empty, empty library. Rows and rows of shelves had been built to replace the books lost in the great fire. Garmee Gamee stifled a giggle as she paced to the only shelf with a handful of books. “So this is the great library of New Rogar Li,” she said hiding a smile.

  “Every book will be replaced,” an old, old man wheezed. “Copied from memory or other books from the libraries of Madrun and Reia. I am Nostacarr, who are you?”

  “I am Garmee Gamee, a pleasure to meet you,” she said impolitely, ignoring the master of the library. Ronenth and Yulenth now whispered furiously with another elderly man with a stocky build.

  “Do not dare to dictate my schedule to me!” Ronenth finally loudly said, and stalked off into the echoing caverns of the empty library.

  Solienth sadly patted Yulenth’s shoulder, as the older man wearily sat.

  “He is like a young horse,” Garmee Gamee said as she approached the two elderly Glafs. “He wants to kick around the meadow, when he should be learning how to obey his rider’s commands. Children are difficult.” Garmee Gamee falsely shook her hair.

  “He is all we have,” Solienth said with a husky hint of sorrow.

  “And he is so gifted,” Nostacarr added. “Why you show him a passage and he remembers it easily. He already speaks several eldritch languages fluently. And his penmanship is beautiful.” All three old men nodded in agreement at the remarkable line of Ronenth’s script.

  “Perhaps we have tried to control him
too much,” Solienth said shaking his strong chin. “He is a young man after all. At his age, all I did was chase girls and get into fights.”

  “Every problem can be solved if you look at all the possibilities,” Yulenth said looking off in the direction of Ronenth’s departure. “I’ve always believed if you can get enough information, get close to the problem, you can unravel any difficulty. I must talk to him.” Yulenth rose and shambled after the boy.

  Solienth sighed. “The brightest man I know, and that boy turns him into a simpleton.”

  “Children must be controlled,” Garmee Gamee simply said. “This much I know.”

  “That is all I knew of life,” Solienth quietly said. “I ordered my army and they obeyed. Where is my army now?” Solienth stared off to the empty heights of the beautiful, vast, bookless library. Then he rose. “I must see Halldora.”

  “I will go with you,” Garmee Gamee said.

  As Solienth heaved his elderly body, once a massive warrior, through the large doors of the library, Garmee Gamee diligently followed.

  In the streets of New Rogar Li the snow fell heavier as the day dimmed to a close. Workers and messengers hurried to finish their day’s business. Every passing figure was a ghost rimmed with white, faces down, arms huddled.

  “Tell me, great general,” Garmee Gamee said to the old general. “Is it true? The rumors I’ve heard?”

  “What rumors?” Solienth growled without malice.

  “That there is a traitor here in Wealdland,” Garmee Gamee innocently chimed. “They say the Dark Lord of Magic anticipates our every move, so there must be a traitor in our midst.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Solienth grunted.

  “But how can he move so freely about Wealdland?” Garmee Gamee needled. “And, he is building a citadel here under our very noses. How can he be allowed to do this unless someone of our race is aiding him?”

  “I can think of only one man who would be so foolish,” Solienth frowned.

  “I do not mean Apghilis,” Garmee Gamee minced. “Personally, I do not believe the lies about him. He has an army in the north and fights garonds. That is not the mark of a traitor. A traitor sits next to you at dinner, and smiles at you as he slips a knife into your back.”

  “That may be,” Solienth said without caring.

  The two arrived at the red and gold door to the home of Frea and Halldora.

  “How funny,” Garmee Gamee said. “I was just here this afternoon.” The two entered and were announced. Solienth and Garmee Gamee were shown to a comfortable room with expensive, gold embroidered cushions, a large, elaborately designed red carpet, and an impressive fireplace carved of granite, in which crackled a large, comforting fire.

  “It seems I host every leader of every nation today,” Halldora said as she entered, robed in a flowing dress of red and gold, the royal colors of Man, her red hair braided back. She wearily clasped her hands in front. Halldora was the exact image of her daughter, Frea. At only thirty winters, she still had youth and fire in her smile, but her blue eyes held back an inescapable sorrow for her murdered husband, Haergill, King of the Northern Kingdom of Man.

  “My dear, Solienth,” she said as she kissed the old warrior. “How may I help the last Glaf soldier?” Halldora said with an honest smile.

  Solienth shifted uncomfortably in his lavish chair. “It’s the boy. Ronenth. He’s troubled. He’s neglecting his studies.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Halldora delicately sat. “He spends every moment here.” She shifted her gaze down in shame. “He burns for my daughter. It is plain. But he also knows she loves only Arnwylf.”

  “Have you tried talking to Frea?” Solienth pled. “Perhaps she could dissuade him, bring him back to his senses.”

  “Oh, she won’t do that,” Garmee Gamee said. “I know young girls. They love to dangle boys like a cat plays with a mangled mouse.”

  Halldora and Solienth stared at Garmee Gamee in polite, shocked disgust.

  “There must be something you can do,” Solienth said to Halldora.

  “I think it best to not meddle in the tangles of young love,” Halldora said with apology.

  “Coming between two lovers is like a civil war, is it not?” Garmee Gamee mused. “Not unlike the war between the Kingdom of Man and the Glafs.”

  “This is nothing like that,” Halldora said.

  “Oh, I think so,” Garmee Gamee said. “The Kingdom of Man ended up with everything and the Glafs, nothing. Just like Frea has everything, and Ronenth has nothing.”

  “That is not true,” Halldora breathed. “Ronenth is his own man.”

  “But Frea has his heart in her hands,” Solienth added. “He is at her mercy.”

  “This is preposterous,” Halldora stood.

  “Will the Northern Kingdom of Man destroy Glafemen again?” Solienth quietly chewed, clearly anger brewing in his heart.

  An uncomfortable silence filled the opulent room.

  Halldora quietly rose, crossed the room, and knelt at Solienth’s feet. “What would you have of the Kingdom of Man?” She quietly asked. “Take what you will. Our people pushed yours to the brink of extinction. I apologize.”

  Solienth was motionless. He stared at the fire. Garmee Gamee brought her hand to her open mouth. Solienth slowly lifted his bulk. Standing, with an emperor’s posture, Solienth said, “the men of Glaf need nothing from the Northern Kingdom of Man.” And then Solienth stalked from the room.

  Halldora rose from her knees and sat in Solienth’s chair.

  “What could you do?” Garmee Gamee said. “Perhaps you should have given him your kingdom. Perhaps you should have given him your body. The violence of your people murdered thousands of his people. What excuse is there for such violence? What forgiveness?”

  Halldora turned to stare at Garmee Gamee in disbelief, but then the guilt of years of bloodshed weighed her gaze down to the richly embroidered carpet.

  “I never went to war,” Halldora softly said. “I have never killed any single human being in my life. But I know my husband did. I know I enjoyed the riches of his conquests. I know I reaped the treasures of the misery and death my people visited on innocents.”

  Garmee Gamee smiled as she let Halldora suffer in silence.

  “Queen,” a servant said, bowing as he entered. “Prince Haerreth is leaving, and he’s very upset.”

  “Oh, no,” Halldora breathed. “I forgot about Haerreth!”

  Halldora rose and rushed from the room, with Garmee Gamee at her heels.

  Halldora and Garmee Gamee came upon voices increasing in anger, near the marbled foyer of the mansion. A ginger haired man with a blonde beard, wearing ceremonial armor berated servants who apologized and begged him to stay. Hetwing shyly stood in her brother’s shadow, her eyes red from crying.

  “Take your hands off of me,” Haerreth boomed as servants pawed at his cloak and shoulders. Haerreth stopped as he spied Halldora and Garmee Gamee arriving. “In all my days, I have never been treated so rudely, so disrespectfully. All day! All day I have waited with scraping sycophants mewing and pawing at me!”

  “My dear Haerreth,” Halldora spread her hands. “I do apologize. I lost track of time.”

  “It is nightfall,” Haerreth huffed. “I meant to leave the Weald by nightfall. I have word that the Evil One’s citadel here in our lands has been discovered. I meant to ask for the support of the armies of Man in the siege. But, apparently the Heir to the throne of Reia isn’t important enough to be included in the plans of the new Wealdland. Let me tell you-”

  “Please, Haerreth!” Halldora said.

  “Let me tell you,” Haerreth went on, “Reia is still strong, and the jealousy of the other nations will not preclude us from the governance of Wealdland as a whole. It is not our fault the garonds never attacked our lands, but plenty of reians died in the Battle of the Eastern Meadowlands. Plenty!”

  “I beg you to stay,” Halldora said. “Or let me come with you to show my support.”

&nb
sp; “It’s too late for that,” Garmee Gamee said. “He needs to ride with his men. So...”

  “That’s right!” Haerreth boomed. “It’s too late! Why I’ve received more respect from Maginalius, the brother of that damnable Summeninquis than from you, or Caerlund, or Derragen, or Alrhett, or- or-”

  “You are the prince of Reia after all,” Garmee Gamee simply said.

  “I AM the prince of Reia,” Haerreth shouted. “I am done with this place.”

  “I will come with you,” Garmee Gamee said.

  “Yes,” Halldora’s eyes were dark, “I think you’d best.”

  Haerreth burst from the mansion striding through the slush of the new fallen snow, with Garmee Gamee at his heels, trotting to keep up with Haerreth’s angry pace.

  Without lanterns or torches to light the streets, the city was dark.

  “Solienth thinks there is a traitor,” Garmee Gamee almost shouted.

  Haerreth skidded to a stop in the snow and turned. “What?” He asked, his face reddening.

  “Solienth thinks there is a traitor,” Garmee Gamee repeated. “Otherwise, how could the Dark Lord even survive here? How could his armies maintain their advantages after being so thoroughly defeated last year?”

  “Does Alrhett know this?” Haerreth said, with fire in his eyes.

  “Perhaps we should ask her,” Garmee Gamee said.

  “Too right,” Haerreth angrily breathed, and then turned to stalk in the direction of Alrhett’s home.

  At the simple house, Haerreth banged on the green door. A servant wearing a sword answered the door.

  “Let me in,” Haerreth said as he pushed past the servant, with Garmee Gamee right behind him.

  Haerreth found Alrhett and Wynnfrith seated at a dining table with a humble meal before them. Wynnfrith stared down at her plate, not touching anything.

  “My Lord Haerreth,” Alrhett said with affection, rising to greet him.

  “Is there a traitor in our midst and I was not told?” Haerreth demanded.

  “Ah, Garmee Gamee,” Alrhett said with knowing. “I see you’ve made quite a few new friends in one short day.”

  “Well?” Haerreth challenged.

  “From whom did this revelation come?” Alrhett quietly asked, her eyes squarely on Garmee Gamee.