The Last Elf of Lanis

by K. J. Hargan

Chapter Fifteen

  Yulenth

  The night was black and blinding. There was no light from the evening heavens. Yulenth tried as best as he could to keep up with the old man, as he led him deeper into the tangled growth of the Weald, north away from Rogar Li.

  Then, Yulenth had a thought. He had seen the assassins attacking a figure in a blue cloak, but he had not seen Alrhett’s face. She might have switched cloaks with Matclew. It was possible.

  “Stop!” Yulenth cried, but the Mage kept running through the trees. Out of breath, Yulenth fell to the loam and moss of the forest floor, gasping.

  Yulenth looked up to see the Mage disappearing into the cover of the massive oaks. Behind him, he could hear the shouts of men, and saw the glow of their torches. In horror, Yulenth rose and stumbled in the direction he saw the Mage disappear.

  The branches caught at his face and clothes, they looked like ebony snakes curling all throughout the coal black woods. Yulenth tripped with every step. The Mage had led him directly into the most undeveloped, uninhabited part of the Weald. Yulenth stopped. He had no idea where he was. He was completely and utterly lost. He knew approximately the direction the men who wanted him dead were coming from. So he ran, through the darkened bramble, directly away from them.

  “Where are you?” Yulenth hissed as loud as he thought safe. No answer came back. The Weald was silent, no owl hooted, nor insect buzzed, not even the night birds sang. It was pitch black, and quiet as a tomb. It was a killer’s night.

  Yulenth thought he saw movement. He ran towards it. It was the Mage. Yulenth kept him in his sight, as they ran on further into the heart of the Weald.

  “Wait! Wait!” Yulenth called to the Mage, who stopped for him. Yulenth, panting for breath, made his way to the Mage.

  “I have to go back, she might be alive,” Yulenth cried.

  “She most certainly is,” the Mage said.

  Yulenth was puzzled. “Then lead me back.”

  “I don’t know the way back,” the Mage simply said. “I know the way away. That’s easy.”

  “They want to kill her!” Yulenth yelled at the Mage.

  “On the contrary, my friend,” the Mage softly said. “It is your life they want.” Yulenth stared at the Mage in confusion. The Mage went on, “you see. They cannot kill her without causing a great revolt, unless she is found guilty in the High Court. Then, they most certainly will execute her. But, you are a witness to Lord Stavolebe’s murderous behavior, and so very dangerous to them. And you can keep her from being found guilty.”

  “I don’t care if they try to kill me!” Yulenth cried. “I need to be there for her.”

  “I disagree,” the Mage said. “You will be killed as quickly as you can set foot in Rogar Li, and without consequence to them, for you are not a citizen of the Weald, and so unprotected by their laws, unfair, I know. But then, what use will you be to anybody. No. You have things you must do elsewhere.”

  “Who are you?” Yulenth suspiciously asked.

  “I’m a Mage,” he answered honestly. “The last one. Magic is going from the world. For good. It’s returning to the Parent of us all. The beneficial magic will silently fade. The malevolent magic will not go so quietly, I’m afraid. The real question is whether life on this world can survive the transition.”

  “I don’t believe in magic,” Yulenth said with a sniff.

  “I know,” the Mage said. “Your mind is a marvel to me. What you do, how you see through a thing by turning it around and around until you understand every little thing, it is a kind of magic. A new magic. You don’t know it my friend, but you are going to change the whole world. It’s a privilege to meet you. In a sad kind of way. The last of me. The first of you.”

  Yulenth looked around nervously thinking he heard the pursuing men, ignoring the ramblings of the old man.

  “Did you know,” the Mage continued, “your magic will go, too. Something new will begin at the end of the seventh age. It’s like when something becomes so small it’s the largest thing in the universe.”

  “What’s a universe?” Yulenth asked. “You talk in riddles.”

  “Ha” the Mage said. “I suppose it’s written too deeply in my nature. Well, I must leave you. I must help a man cross a bridge, and then I am going to die.”

  “Are you mad?” Yulenth asked.

  “Of course,” the Mage laughed as if it was obvious. “I bid you farewell, Yulenth of Glaf. And, I hope your new world is better than my old one.”

  Yulenth leaped back, as hundreds upon hundreds of insects began to swarm around the Mage. Then, night birds swept in and grabbed him as well. They all beat their wings with great effort. The Mage levitated in the air.

  “Wait!” Yulenth cried. “Show me the way out!”

  From his cloud, the Mage pointed. Billows of pollen swirled under the Mage lifting him higher. Then, three great cranes, with red crowns, swooped down, clutched his shoulders, and the Mage rapidly flew away over the towering treetops of the Weald.

  Yulenth was bewildered. And, he was completely lost and alone. He knew that he was far from Rogar Li, far into the heart of the Weald. He knew there were men looking for him, looking to kill him.

  The best thing, he thought, would be to find a safe place to sleep and then try to find his way back in the morning.

  Yulenth pulled himself up onto the shoulders of a spreading oak, making his way as high up as he could.

  “Let’s hope there’s no climbing beasties in these parts,” he muttered to himself as he quickly drifted off to sleep.

  The early morning birds woke Yulenth from a deep sleep, just as Orth, the sun god, stretched his fingers across the clearing sky. Yulenth suddenly got the idea that if he climbed high enough, he might see Rogar Li.

  He stretched his arms and legs with much cracking and risked climbing up to the swaying branches near the top. But, it was useless. The canopy of trees was too dense, even with many of them bare already, waiting for winter.

  Ah, Yulenth thought, there was no rain last night. I should be able to follow my own tracks back.

  Climbing down, Yulenth was surprised to find he couldn’t even find his own tracks leading up to the tree in which he spent the night. It was as if someone had brushed the forest floor clean in the darkness of the evening.

  “He did it,” Yulenth mumbled to himself, meaning the Mage, who he thought had probably somehow swept clean all traces from the floor of the woods in the night to protect Yulenth.

  “Okay, then,” Yulenth said to himself. He had determined, the day before, that moss seemed to grow on the northern side of the trees because it got less light, so he would simply go south back to Rogar Li. To his amazement and consternation he found no moss growing on any side of any of the trees in the dense tangle of interlocking trunks towering all around him.

  “Right, then,” he said. “Sun rises in the east. I face the sun.” And he did. “Then south is on my right hand. Right.”

  Then with assurance, Yulenth began picking his way through the Weald following the direction of his ‘right hand’.

  After quite a while of tripping through the Weald, punctuated by the occasional screech from some distant wild animal, Yulenth decided he was very, very lost.

  He sat down to rest for a moment, when he thought he heard the lowing of an auroch. It can’t be, he thought. Aurochs don’t go into the Weald, not even by mistake. Yulenth rose and carefully followed the contented mooing.

  Auroch were large, brownish red cattle. Their massive horns, male and female, sprouted from their heads like spears. Aurochs were almost as large as stauers, but the male auroch was much more dangerous, being so territorial and confrontational.

  Yulenth carefully found his way through the trees to a small clearing where a single, small house sat. Flowers, and a vegetable garden surrounded it. Two, fat and happy female aurochs were astoundingly tethered, and even more amazingly being milked by an old man.

  A startled auroch can kill at will, so Yulenth walked very c
arefully towards the old man, circling around so as not to surprise him.

  “Hello?” Yulenth quietly said.

  The old man didn’t hear him and went on milking the aurochs.

  “Hello?” Yulenth said a little louder and a little closer.

  “Gaah!” The old man fell back in fear, his tin bucket of milk spilling. Yulenth braced for the fury of the aurochs, but they calmly stood and waited. The old man looked up.

  “Yulenth?” He said.

  Yulenth could not believe his eyes. “Solienth?” Yulenth said in wonder. It was a moment captured in glass. Neither believing the other was real, both thinking they were the last of the Glafs.

  Then Solienth rose and laughing and crying threw his arms around Yulenth who was laughing and crying as well.

  “I thought I was-“Solienth said and then was overcome with emotion.

  “Me, too” Yulenth was barely able to get the words out.

  They held each other and stared in wonder.

  “Solienth, the last of the Glafs,” Solienth said to himself, “meet Yulenth, the last of the Glafs.” And then they both erupted into raucous laughter and danced a little dance together.

  After they calmed down, Solienth invited Yulenth into his humble home for bread and a surprise.

  “How do you make them stay so still?” Yulenth asked, looking out the window at the two aurochs.

  “They’re happy,” was all Solienth said, and then he laid a cloth wrapped object on the table. “Open it,” Solienth prodded.

  Yulenth unwrapped the object and found a strange, light orange cube. Yulenth poked it. It had the consistency of well cooked meat, but was cool and smelled different. It smelled nice, pungent, and almost sour. Solienth took a knife and cut a piece off. He offered it to Yulenth who looked at the piece of something in horror.

  “What?” Solienth said sarcastically. “Am I going to poison you and become the only heir to the great Glaf Empire.”

  Yulenth sniffed at the strange material in his hand. Solienth sighed in disappointment, reached over, broke the material in two, and popped his piece into his mouth. He ate his portion slowly and with delight.

  Yulenth carefully put the weird material into his mouth. It was firm like wax. The taste was a bit like sour milk, but as he chewed the flavor became intensely pleasurable.

  “It’s delicious!” Yulenth said in wonder.

  “I make it from the milk of the aurochs,” Solienth said. “I call it cheese.”

  “More!” Yulenth begged, as laughing, Solienth cut him another piece to go with his bread.

  “Have you been out to the ruins?” Solienth said, suddenly somber.

  “I haven’t been to Glafemen for over seventeen summers,” Yulenth said. “I wasn’t there for the siege. I’d like to keep it standing and unspoiled in my memories.”

  “That’s it,” Solienth said rising with finality, “We must go there at once. We can make it before nightfall.”

  “I must return to Rogar Li,” Yulenth said. “My wife is in great danger.”

  “You’re married,” Solienth asked with mild surprise.

  “Yes,” Yulenth said with embarrassment. “I married... Alrhett, the queen of the Weald.”

  Solienth stared at Yulenth for a moment as if he wasn’t telling the truth, and then broke into gales of laughter.

  “Really?” Solienth couldn’t stop laughing. Yulenth nodded. “Oh,” Solienth said, “that town is full of political vipers. She’ll be just fine, if she’s their queen.” Solienth stood, his back aching from his age. Then he looked at Yulenth with kind eyes. “Let’s go to Glafemen,” he said.

  Yulenth thought of how the Mage had said Alrhett would be safe. The Mage was a strange and tricky person, but honest as far as Yulenth could see. Then, a feeling came over Yulenth, a feeling he couldn’t describe even until his last days. He could only describe it as magic. He knew for a certainty that Alrhett would not only survive, but he would see her sooner rather than later if he followed his old friend to Glafemen.

  “All right,” Yulenth said rising with confidence, “let us go to Glafemen.”

  The rest of the morning, Yulenth helped Solienth pack a few things, and at midday, both armed with spears, leading the two aurochs, they set out for the ruins of Glafemen to the north of the Weald.

  Late in the afternoon, they came to a break in the trees, and meadowland rolled out as far at the eye could see.

  “Very well, Weffie and Bekkie, you’re on your own,” Solienth said untying his two aurochs. The massive beasts stared at Solienth with big, dark, loving eyes.

  “Come on,” Solienth said to Yulenth. “They’ll get distracted and forget all about me in an instant.”

  They marched northward with the two domesticated aurochs faithfully trailing behind. As the sky began to darken, they saw the blackened and ruined spires of Glafemen on the horizon. Yulenth was frozen for a moment with emotion. Solienth put his arm around Yulenth’s shoulders.

  “We’d best get there before nightfall,” Solienth gently said. “It’s not good to be out in the open like this for the night.”

  They reached the ruins of Glafemen as a glow still lingered in the cloud filled sky. The encroaching night made the burnt and toppled spires of Glafemen look black as coal. All was eerily silent. There was a light breeze playing across the grass that had grown up all around the ruins. Herds of aurochs could be seen grazing all across the gentle plain that sloped away from the capitol of the Glafs. Yulenth’s throat tightened with emotion. His people were gone. The line of Glafs would die out with Solienth and him. They, neither one, had children. He considered Arnwylf his grandson, but his line was really from another. The ash of the great fires that had destroyed the city had solidified with age and rain into hard, black sediment. It was getting cold with the setting of the sun.

  The sound of stones tumbling under foot made both Yulenth and Solienth whip their spears around to find a dark haired, dark eyed boy of about fifteen pointing his own spear in their direction.

  “Get out of my city!” The boy cried with danger and pain in his voice.

  “This is my city!” Yulenth cried back with pain and rage, advancing on the boy.

  “Now, now,” Solienth tried to calm them. “Let’s be sensible.”

  “I am Ronenth, the last of the Glafs,” the boy cried with building fury. “And I will defend my city to the death!”

  “I am Yulenth, the last of the Glafs!” Yulenth cried advancing on the boy, filled with rage and tears streaming down his face. “Get out of my city or I will annihilate you!”

  Both the boy and Yulenth were dangerously close.

  “Will you two shut up!” Solienth slapped Yulenth, and pulled the spear out of the boy’s hands. The three of them regarded each other in the growing darkness of the night.

  It seemed an eternity they stared at each other’s faces in painful wonder.

  “I thought I was the last,” the boy said, choked with tears. And then the three embraced, crying.

  After they had all calmed down, Solienth started a small fire and began to feed the boy, Ronenth, who seemed to have an insatiable appetite. Yulenth looked at the boy’s face in astonishment.

  “You know,” he said to Solienth, “He looks just like you at that age.”

  “I was thinking the same thing! But, that he looked like you!” Solienth laughed a hearty laugh. “Tell us, Ronenth, of your family and travels.”

  “My family,” Ronenth began, “was of a low station. We saw the garonds swarm into our lands before we could get into the city. My mother took me and my brothers away right before the siege. We saw the garonds kill many, many Glafs. My mother and brothers later died of disease or starvation.”

  The three stared quietly into the campfire.

  “You may have been low of station,” Yulenth said, “but now you stand to inherit all of Glaf, Ronenth.”

  Then, the three all told the stories of their lives up to the moment they met.

  “There are so m
any things we must teach you,” Solienth said with a sigh. “Did either of your parents teach you to read or write?”

  “I do not know,” Ronenth said, “I do not know what that is.”

  Yulenth and Solienth shared a warm look.

  “Writing,” Yulenth said, “is the great tradition of the Glafs. We are known all throughout Wealdland as the best writers and readers.” Then Yulenth was quiet. “There once was an impressive library here,” Yulenth said staring up at the blackened remains of his city.

  “Let us get some sleep,” Solienth said, “and tomorrow school begins.”

  “I am too excited to sleep,” Ronenth said with wonder. “I want school to start now.”

  Yulenth scratched a symbol in the ash. “This,” he said, “is the letter for justice.”

  Ronenth stared at it. And as Yulenth and Solienth made themselves comfortable for the night and fell quickly to sleep, Ronenth, mesmerized, stayed up late tracing the symbol over and over.

  In the morning, Yulenth woke to find Solienth still snoring, but Ronenth was gone.

  “Solienth,” Yulenth roused his friend. “Solienth!”

  “Hmm?” Solienth opened his tired, old eyes.

  “The boy is gone!”

  Yulenth and Solienth quickly rose. Solienth rummaged through his gear.

  “Ronenth!” Yulenth cried.

  “Nothing’s missing,” Solienth said. “He didn’t rob us.”

  “Ronenth!” Yulenth cried again, stumbling over burnt rocks, frantically trying to find the boy.

  “Here I am!” Ronenth cried. His arms were full of packages and bolts of cloth.

  “Look!” Solienth cried. “Glaf cloth!”

  “I have tried to save everything of my people that I could,” Ronenth said with pride. Yulenth and Solienth looked through the meager treasures of a once great civilization now rescued by a dark eyed boy.

  “And look!” Ronenth held up a leather bound book and flopped it open. “Writing!”

  Yulenth scanned the book, then smiled and handed it to Solienth.

  “Does it tell of the great adventures of the Glafs?” Ronenth asked.

  “It’s a merchant’s list of inventory,” Solienth said with a sad, pained smile.

  “Well,” Ronenth said with defensive pride, “we shall have to write all the books over again.”

  “Look at this,” Yulenth said to Solienth running his hand over a stream of beautiful, pale blue cloth.

  “It’s the color of our flag,” Solienth wistfully said.

  “It’s the color of the Great Lake of Ettonne,” Ronenth said touching the cloth with reverence.

  “It is why the men of the Northern Kingdom of Man mistakenly called us Ettonnes,” Yulenth ruefully said. “This color.”

  Solienth looked out over the great grass plain spreading out before the ruins of Glafemen. It was dotted with herds of aurochs, horses, and a few doderns contentedly grazing.

  “Over there,” Solienth gestured, “were hundreds of houses. Over there, a great market. Over there...” Solienth trailed off. Weffie and Bekkie shuffled up to Solienth, their udders full and leaking. Solienth sadly patted Weffie’s muzzle, then noticed some other wild, aurochs curiously grazing closer.

  “Here I am,” Solienth said rising, reaching his hands out to the herd of calmly grazing animals, “the great general of cows.” Then he flopped down, put his face in his hands and wept.

  Ronenth moved to comfort him, but Yulenth knew his old friend and gently diverted the boy from antagonizing the old general with sympathy.

  The rest of the morning Yulenth taught Ronenth writing and reading. The dark haired boy was so eager to learn that Yulenth could barely teach him fast enough.

  About midday, Solienth approached.

  “I apologize for my selfishness,” Solienth said to Yulenth and Ronenth.

  “It’s all right,” Ronenth said, but Yulenth caught him by his shoulder.

  “Learn the ways of your people,” he whispered to the dark eyed boy. “So,” Yulenth squared off to Solienth, “you wish us to accept an apology for your self-pity, is that it?”

  “I don’t need you to accept anything,” Solienth gruffly responded.

  “Who do you think you are?” Yulenth challenged.

  “I am who I am,” Solienth said with a sneer.

  “Well, then,” Yulenth said with a huff.

  “Well, then,” Solienth proudly said.

  And then, they fell into each other’s arms laughing.

  “I don’t understand,” Ronenth said scratching his head.

  “A Glaf is strong,” Solienth said. “And can endure pain and abuse.”

  “But, most of all” Yulenth said with a twinkle in his eye, “a Glaf must be able to laugh at himself, or he is no Glaf.”

  Yulenth threw his arm around Solienth’s shoulders and gave him a hug.

  “I was thinking,” Solienth said.

  “Another Glaf curse” Yulenth butted in, “always thinking.”

  “I was thinking,” Solienth continued, “about that battle at Rion Ta. With the garonds on the horses?”

  “Yes,” Yulenth was guessing his thoughts. “The old stories tell of human warriors riding horses to battle.”

  “We should be able to do that,” Solienth sniffed with pride.

  “And even better than the garonds,” Yulenth also sniffed. “All the histories wrote that great armies of humans once rode upon horses. Why have we given up this very sensible practice?”

  The three looked out at the field filled with grazing aurochs, doderns, and horses. Then Yulenth noticed something in the far distance, a column of soldiers.

  “Look,” he said pointing.

  “Are they man or garond?” Solienth squinted.

  “We will defend our capitol to the death!” Ronenth puffed.

  “Let’s just see,” Yulenth slowly said. “Yes, yes, they are men. Looks like they fly the colors of the Northern Kingdom, the golden sun on a field of red.”

  “Shall we fight them?” Ronenth excitedly asked.

  “Let’s talk first,” Solienth said. “But you, Ronenth, stay up in the ruins and fly if fighting starts. No objections.”

  Ronenth grumbled, but did as Solienth said. Solienth and Yulenth then calmly waited, loosely holding their spears as the twenty or more soldiers of the Northern Kingdom of Man approached.

  A captain hailed them. Solienth waved back.

  “Close enough,” Yulenth called. “What do you want?”

  “All armies are gathering at Tyny to fight the garonds!” The captain called back.

  “You see before you, the last of the Glafs,” Yulenth called. “We may join you, but honestly, I feel no allegiance to you or your cause.”

  The captain grimly paused.

  “I respect your decision,” the captain called. “All men are needed. But, we will not compel you.” The captain turned to go, then stopped and turned back. “I know it is not for me to apologize for the great wrong done to your people by my people. But please accept the apology only I can personally extend. It was wrong to fight our brothers of the Skyld tribe. All know that now.”

  “Yes,” Yulenth called back, “very convenient to say you’re sorry now that we’re all almost gone. Good luck with your battle.” Yulenth then waved the captain away with a dismissive gesture. “Off with you.”

  The captain paused, and it seemed as if he were deciding if he should take offense. But then, he seemed to remember the Glaf way, shook his head, and continued marching south, with his men, across the grassy plain.

  Solienth looked over at Yulenth as if he was impressed by his bravado. Then they both laughed together. Ronenth scurried down from his perch and pushed the older men, playing and laughing.

  The rest of the day Yulenth taught Ronenth at a blistering pace, the young man seemed to be so thirsty for knowledge.

  Solienth walked down onto the meadow and, with a rope, tried futilely to catch a horse. Yulenth and Ronenth took breaks occasionally to
laugh at Solienth’s clumsy attempts.

  Night fell, and Solienth tested Ronenth, as Yulenth prepared the evening meal.

  Solienth stopped testing and helped Yulenth.

  “That boy is frightening,” Solienth said in a whisper.

  “Yes,” Yulenth said. “And now, he is all that is left of Glaf. We must protect him with our very lives.”

  “As if he was our son,” Solienth agreed.

  The rest of the evening was spent with Yulenth and Solienth telling humorous and heroic stories of Glaf to the utterly rapt audience of Ronenth, until they all fell into a happy and deep sleep.

  The next morning, Solienth was the schoolmaster. He taught Ronenth more advanced ideas of economics, trade and government.

  Yulenth took the rope and wandered out onto the plain.

  “I can do no worse,” he said to himself. Yulenth made no overt attempt to rope a horse, but instead studied each animal carefully with scrutiny.

  Late in the morning, Yulenth was surprised to turn and see a white horse with a black mane studying him with intelligence burning in its dark eyes. He pretended to ignore the young stallion and walked away. The horse curiously followed him.

  Watching from the corner of his eye, Yulenth picked a clump of tasty grass and offered it to a nearby dodern. The massive animal shuffled away as Yulenth drew near. The horse followed Yulenth trying to see what he was doing.

  Yulenth wandered away, keeping one eye on the white horse with the black mane. Yulenth pretended to be bored and offered the clump of sweet grass to an auroch who sniffed at it, but was too nervous to take it. The auroch bobbed its head, wanting the clump of grass Yulenth offered. The white horse crowded closer as if to push the auroch off.

  Yulenth started to wander away again, but the white horse pushed Yulenth’s shoulder with his muzzle. Yulenth turned to survey the animal.

  “What do you want?” Yulenth slyly asked. Then, he held out the grass for the horse as he stealthily put the rope around the horse’s neck.

  “Now we’ll see,” Yulenth nervously muttered to himself. He gently pulled on the rope to lead the white horse to a deep green clump of grass and the horse complied.

  “I’ll be bitten by bugs,” Yulenth exclaimed to himself, and patted the horse’s neck. “You need a name, friend.”

  The white horse looked at Yulenth with happy eyes.

  “Gladsir” Yulenth said, and the horse gleefully tossed his head. “You like that, eh. Okay, Gladsir, let’s see if you like this.”

  Yulenth positioned himself carefully, and then hefted himself onto the horse’s back.

  About midday, at the ruins, Solienth was explaining to Ronenth the need for nations to build avenues of trade for friendly relations, when Yulenth wildly galloped up on Gladsir.

  “Hallo, citizens of Glaf!” Yulenth yelled, then whooped and wheeled the happy, prancing horse out onto the field.

  “I’ll never hear the end of this,” Solienth sighed.

  Ronenth looked up at Solienth with eager, pleading eyes.

  “We might as well join him,” Solienth sighed again.

  Ronenth let out a whoop and ran to join Yulenth, to see if he could catch a horse of his own.

  In the field, Yulenth seemed as one with Gladsir. Ronenth ran back and forth, roughly trying to grab a horse, while Solienth walked up to the red mare he had been chasing all the day before. And, the silly animal simply let him hop up on her back.

  “Hmmph,” Solienth grunted to the mare. “Not so coy today, are you?”

  Ronenth was out of breath, and it seemed a tan foal wanted to be caught, but couldn’t trust itself. Then, Ronenth heard Solienth shouting something.

  He looked up in the direction Solienth was pointing. Yulenth pulled Gladsir to a halt.

  On the far edge of the meadow, a platoon of twenty horse garonds charged.

  Solienth turned his mare and rode as fast as he could back to the ruins for the spears that had been left behind. Yulenth wheeled Gladsir. Ronenth was caught in the storm of animals beginning to stampede.

  “Help!” Ronenth cried.

  Yulenth urged Gladsir and the noble animal sprang forward towards Ronenth. Yulenth held out his hand and swung the boy up onto the horse behind him. Then, they sprinted for the ruins.

  Solienth looked back, he could see the horse garonds were nearly on Yulenth and Ronenth astride Gladsir. He had no time to reach their spears. He wheeled the red mare and rode back as fast as he could.

  The horse garonds were slavering and angry. They swung their clubs and swords in circles over their heads, eager for a chance to kill.

  As Solienth rode back, several aurochs turned and charged before him. Solienth suddenly got an idea. He rode back and forth, keeping himself directly behind the stampeding, beasts with their vicious horns.

  And just as he hoped, as he guided the beasts into the horse garonds, the aurochs bent their heads and with their long, deadly horns gored the horses and their garond riders.

  “Use the aurochs!” Solienth bellowed to Yulenth who had several horse garonds surrounding him.

  But, Yulenth saw what had just happened and was ahead of him. He turned Gladsir and slapped a passing bull auroch on the haunch, and the huge animal speared two garonds as it thrashed its mighty head.

  Gladsir was magnificent. It was as if he was born to herd aurochs. The horse and Yulenth turned aurochs into the garonds again and again, and the garonds had no defense.

  In moments, every garond was dead or mortally wounded.

  Yulenth rode up to the ruins.

  “Get off and hand me two spears,” Yulenth said to Ronenth.

  After he had done as instructed, Ronenth tried to get back on Gladsir.

  “You wait here,” Yulenth said to Ronenth, and then galloped away before he could protest.

  Yulenth handed a spear to Solienth, and the two of them rode back and forth in the meadow to finish any garond still alive.

  All the rest of the afternoon, Yulenth and Solienth spent dragging the garonds and gored horses into a pile and burned them. Ronenth watched from the ruins of Glafemen, holding his body, shaking.

  Finally, the mess was cleaned up, and the Glafs prepared dinner in the closing dusk.

  “They were tracking those soldiers of the Northern Kingdom,” Solienth said.

  “Should we go to Tyny?” Yulenth asked Solienth.

  “We probably shouldn’t stay here,” he answered. “And, if a big battle is coming, no place in Wealdland will be safe.”

  “I need to be with my wife,” Yulenth said.

  “What of the boy?” Solienth mused.

  “Look,” Ronenth said, pointing out at the animals of the meadow.

  Yulenth and Solienth looked out to see every animal of the meadow flat on the grass, theirs heads down in fear.

  “What does it mean?” Ronenth asked.

  Yulenth and Solienth had no answer. Then, from the night sky, a screeching came in awful waves. As they looked up, the Wanderer moved quickly in an unnatural way across the heavens.

  “What in Yonne’s name is that!” Solienth cried.

  “Into the ruins!” Yulenth cried.

  The three huddled in fear watching the horrible spectacle from behind huge, blackened granite stones, as Deifol Hroth, from some distant place in the south, moved the Wanderer out of its orbit.