The Last Elf of Lanis (18 page)

“Hello!” Kellabald called. “We need help!”

Behind him Apghilis answered, “I am here to help you.” Apghilis’ soldiers crowded around Kellabald and the Mage. “Be careful,” Apghilis said. “The sword makes him very dangerous.”

The Mage, with his last ounce of strength, pulled away from Kellabald and threw himself at Apghilis. The Mage weakly clutched at him, stared and seemed to see some great mistake Apghilis had made. Then, he laughed in Apghilis’ face. “You fool!” The Mage laughed. Two of the soldiers drove their swords into the Mage, killing him.

“No!” Kellabald cried, wielding the Mattear Gram. There were about twenty of Apghilis’ soldiers and Kellabald turned to face them as they carefully closed into a tight circle around him.

“Put down your weapons!” A voice in the darkness cried as a hundred bows were drawn in the shadows of Pelych by the army of Kipleth.

“This is none of the business of the men of Kipleth!” Apghilis cried to the arriving army.

“No human shall lightly shed another human’s blood on Kipleth soil, Apghilis of the Northern Kingdom,” the Kipleth captain said. “And anything you do in Kipleth will assuredly be my personal business.”

“Then let us take him out of your lands,” Apghilis said.

“I ask for your mercy, and you can see they have already shed the blood of my friend,” Kellabald cried.

“I do not know which of you to believe. But, all armies are massing at the Holmwy River,” the captain declared. “Your fates shall be decided there by those who know you. Until such time any violence will be met with instant death. You,” he indicated Kellabald, “you may safely spend the night with our army. But do not think you are out of the hands of judgment. If you are a thief or a murderer, you will meet justice, but not here on the sacred lands of Kipleth.”

“Fair enough,” Apghilis said. “He has stolen that sword from me. I shall prove it tomorrow and also claim your allegiance. Until the morrow.”

With that Apghilis and his men set a camp a space apart from the Kipleth army.

The captain helped Kellabald bury the Mage. He was so thin and weightless, Kellabald thought. It was almost like they were only burying his clothes.

The Kipleth captain then found Kellabald a place to sleep for the night with his men. Before he fell to sleep, Kellabald noticed the young man from the messenger guild he saw on the bridge also camping in the midst of the grim, heavily armed men of Kipleth.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, the army, Apghilis and his soldiers, and Kellabald all marched east. The young man from the messenger guild ran at a loping gait, gathering speed, west, towards the green hills of Reia.

The whole company marched across the dry, Autumnal grasses of the Western Meadowland. Kellabald stayed near the captain, who was kind, but quiet.

About midday, Apghilis limped his way close to Kellabald and the captain.

“What day is it?” Apghilis asked the captain.

Without turning his head the captain said, “I believe it is
Mid-Autumn
, atheling Apghilis.”

“Yes,
Mid-Autumn
,” Apghilis said with a small smile. Then he turned to Kellabald and said, “Why not give me the Mattear Gram now? It will not go well for you at Tyny when we meet my armies of the Northern Kingdom of Man.”

“We will go first to Rhyd Bawr,” the captain of Kipleth said with no emotion.

“Oh,” Apghilis said. “I have men in Rhyd Bawr as well.” Then he turned to march with his own soldiers.

The captain watched Apghilis leave, and said to Kellabald, “As much as I detest Apghilis, I am inclined to believe him. Many of my men, although they have fought him in mortal combat, respect him for his leadership. All our old rivalries mean nothing, when many nations are without a leader.”

The army stopped to eat and drink in the middle of the Eastern Meadowland. The captain of Kipleth, apart with Kellabald, asked him, “Your name is Kellabald, yes?”

“Yes, as I have told you,” Kellabald honestly answered.

“You have not stolen this sword from Apghilis or any other man?” He asked

“It was hidden by Haergill, king of the Northern Kingdom, in my village, where he lived for two years,” Kellabald said.

“I know the Mattear Gram,” the captain said. “I have fought in battle against Haergill and this sword. The men of Kipleth and the Northern Kingdom were once great enemies. Now we are all uneasy allies against the garonds. Or, so it is hoped.”

Kellabald looked down, for he knew what was coming next.

“You are a Wylfling, of Reia?”

Kellabald nodded.

“Can you tell me, please,” the captain asked with dark eyes, “how a king of the Skylds, Haergill, king of the Northern Kingdom of Man, entrusted his most treasured possession into the hands of a man of the Wylfling tribe, his bitterest of enemies?”

Kellabald had no answer.

“And you say,” the captain continued, “that this king of the Skyld tribe wanted you to deliver this most valued sword into the hands of a king of the Wylfling?” The captain’s voice rose slightly.

“I think,” Kellabald said, his voice cracking, “that Haergill wanted all humans to unite to fight the garonds who are our real enemy.”

“I believe that,” the captain plainly said. “I have a message from the guild which says to protect you at all costs. The message was from our general long thought to have died, so I do not know the truth of the message. Unfortunately, your words have the ring of a thief and a liar. I do not know if I can protect you from my own men if they see falsehood in your words.”

With that, the captain rose and rallied the men to begin their march to Rhyd Bawr.

Along the way, Apghilis’ men began marching chants to lighten their spirits. And, the men of Kipleth joined in. All the chants ended with the call, “All Hail Apghilis!” Trouble played upon Kellabald’s heart as he caught the dark looks the men of Kipleth were giving him. And he thought he saw Apghilis’ soldiers mixing among the soldiers of Kipleth, talking furtively in whispers, which ended with venomous looks in Kellabald’s direction.

Night began to fall as the company approached Rhyd Bawr, a village that sat between the
forks
where the Holmwy River split. The forks were easy to cross. Rhyd Bawr was aptly named, as the village was surrounded by birch and maple trees, with leaves that had all turned blood red for the autumn. There were only a few houses, and a great hall, but many soldiers from all over Wealdland had made camp there.

The army of Kipleth met and greeted many old friends and acquaintances. And, a large contingent of soldiers from the Northern Kingdom of Man greeted Apghilis with a hero’s welcome. It was true, the armies of both Wylfling and Skyld seemed to enjoy an uneasy truce in Rhyd Bawr.

Apghilis quieted them as they gathered around him.

“Great men of the Northern Kingdom, I welcome you and return your love!” A great cheer went up. “Wylfling men I respect and honor you as great warriors with whom we must join against the garond menace.” Another hearty cheer went up with the combined voices of the two armies.

Apghilis raised his hands and said, “But, more wondrous, I bring you the Mattear Gram!”

All was silent.

“Where is it?” A voice called from the crowd. Then began a chant of “Show it!” Apghilis silenced the great throng of soldiers.

“It lies in the hands of a thief and a traitor!” Apghilis cried, turning to point at Kellabald who had the sword wrapped in cloth.

The men pressed close to him.

“I was given the sword by your king!” Kellabald cried, “
To
unite the armies of man! And besides, he has consorted with the garonds! He is the real traitor!” Kellabald pointed at Apghilis.

All was dangerously silent.

“If I am a traitor,” Apghilis began, “then let any man confirm his charge.”

A murmur ran though the thousand soldiers. But, no man accused Apghilis, nor supported Kellabald.

“If I am the rightful king of the Northern Kingdom,” Apghilis said, his voice rising, “and of all the human armies, then let there be a sign in the heavens!”

And as he said it, the Wanderer, the second moon in the bright night sky, moved quickly out of its place with an overpowering wave of energy, pulsing, screeching, terrifying. The waves of power from the unnatural event painfully pounded all who gazed up at the horrific sight.

The soldiers at Rhyd Bawr fell to the earth in fear. Apghilis, himself, fell to his knees, terrified, overwhelmed, by an event, of which he seemed to suspiciously have
foreknowledge
.

Kellabald knew they would kill him now. In the confusion, he turned and ran from the village as fast as he could. He could hear in the dark of the night, a great cry go up. The whole army was on his heels.

Kellabald saw the fork in the Holmwy River and stayed on the eastern side where there were fewer soldiers. His only hope now was to somehow find Healfdene of Reia and beg for his protection.

His heart pounding, a thousand men on his heels, Kellabald ran alone through the deep, black, evil night.

Chapter Twelve

Wynnfrith and Halldora

Wynnfrith and Halldora sat in a dark, windowless room in a remote house in Alfhich. Apghilis, Feeblerod, and several soldiers stomped in.

“Bring her,” Apghilis ordered, and two of his men dragged Halldora away. Apghilis stared down at Wynnfrith with contempt, then left with the other soldiers. Wynnfrith was left alone with Feeblerod.

Feeblerod smiled, a thin lipped, closed mouth grin. His long crooked nose swayed back and forth as he eyed Wynnfrith up and down.

“We will become very close friends,” he said in a low, husky whisper. He moved his obese body with gyrations in a slow dance around Wynnfrith.

Wynnfrith moved up to her knees, ready to fight him if she had to. Feeblerod held out his hands in defense, possibly to grab her.

“Careful,” he said, “careful,” as his bald head glistened with sweat. The room was made of wooden planks, like almost every structure in Alfhich. But this room had no windows, no candles or lamps, or furniture. And, with the darkness of night, all Wynnfrith could see was the unnatural glow of Feeblerod’s face as he circled her.

In the next room, she could hear Apghilis and Halldora loudly exchanging angry words. If he killed her, Wynnfrith thought, there would be no stopping this monster.

His fat hands, with thick stubby fingers, clawed the air as though he were readying to clutch her.

“You must realize,” he said to her in a low voice, “I can make your life very easy, or I can make your life very difficult. Apghilis is our leader, but he entrusts everything to me. I run everything. I will rebuild all of Wealdland when this war is done. All humans will thank me for their lives. And you will thank me for the great pleasure I will give you as you scream in ecstasy.”

Wynnfrith wanted to burst into tears, but another part of her wanted to rip his fat head off.

Feeblerod circled closer and closer. He seemed to want to get behind her, but Wynnfrith kept him and his ugly hands in front of her, where she could fight him.

Then, the door burst open, and light from the hallway filled the room. Apghilis had his soldiers throw Halldora in with Wynnfrith.

“We have no time for amusements,” Apghilis said to Feeblerod. They left the women alone, the door slamming and locking.

Halldora was taken from Wynnfrith by Apghilis and brought to an adjacent room, a small bedroom. Four of his armed guards crowded in behind him. The large men towered over Halldora.

“Where are Kellabald and the Mattear Gram?” Apghilis demanded.

“I do not know,” Halldora said defiantly.

“But you know where he is taking it.”

“As do you.”

“He is taking the symbol of
our
nation to our great enemy, Healfdene of Reia,” Apghilis said with disgust.

“Haergill felt he was the only one worthy to unite all humans against the garond army. It was his dying request to Kellabald. And, knowing Kellabald, he will accomplish what he sets out to do,” Halldora said with strength.

“Where will he meet Healfdene?” Apghilis dangerously breathed.

“I do not know,” Halldora said.

“How much money did he have,” Apghilis demanded.

“You know we have none,” Halldora said.

“Where is he!” Apghilis angrily shouted.

“I do not know!” Halldora shouted back.

Apghilis raised his fist.

“Once again you raise your hand to strike your queen. But, you do not demand my hand in marriage this time?”

“You do not have your mother to protect you,” Apghilis venomously said.

“You will find that the daughter of Nanmund of Fjindel will laugh at your blows,” Halldora said referring to herself with fire in her eyes.

“Draw your swords,” Apghilis ordered his men.

“You order,” Halldora quickly said, “valiant soldiers of the Northern Kingdom of Man, who have sworn oaths of protection to the crown, and family of the crown, to draw their swords, against their sacred vows, against their queen?” Halldora softly directed the last to the armed men.

Two of the soldiers drew their swords, but two did not, their eyes averted in shame. Apghilis huffed with loathing.

“No matter,” he said. “We know you have no money for a boat, so he must cross the river by the bridge. We can easily get to the other side of the Holmwy River first, and meet him as he steps onto the western shore. Take her back to Feeblerod.”

Then Apghilis said to the two soldiers who did not draw their swords, “You may find employment elsewhere, perhaps among the filth of Alfhich.”

It was then that Apghilis retuned Halldora to the room where Feeblerod was about to attack Wynnfrith.

Halldora and Wynnfrith were left alone in the dark. Halldora could sense Wynnfrith’s terror, and she held her friend until she stopped shivering.

“We must get away from here,” Halldora said with an angry resolve.

Beyond the door were the hurried and muffled voices of men planning and departing.

Then, after a long quiet, Feeblerod entered. “How are you, my dears,” he said with false sympathy.

“Hungry,” Halldora dismissively said. “We’ve had nothing to eat all day. You might find us better company if we were fed.”

“And perhaps more compliant” Feeblerod said with a crooked smile crawling up one side of his face. His egg shaped head nodded from side to side, then he turned and quickly left.

“He is the key to this prison,” Halldora ominously said. “Listen,” she said to Wynnfrith holding her face in her hands. “You must pretend to accept his affections so we can overpower him.”

“I do not think he has affections in mind,” Wynnfrith said with a pale face, “but something more awful.”

“In any case,” Halldora said, trying to steel Wynnfrith, “we must get out of here, and we will only do it if we are smarter and stronger than our jailer.”

Wynnfrith bravely nodded.

Halldora rose and began looking around their improvised prison. It was clearly an empty storage room. It had a low ceiling, no windows and only the one door. Halldora pushed on the walls. The wooden planks creaked and complained.

“Help me,” Halldora said to Wynnfrith, “there may be a weak spot because of the earthquake.”

Wynnfrith rose and the two of them pushed at the walls carefully, looking for places where the wooden structure was stressed.

“Here!” Wynnfrith hissed. Halldora joined her, and the two of them pushed against the wall. It swayed and creaked loudly. Some of the supporting beams on the outside had come loose.

Halldora eagerly pulled at a plank that slightly pulled loose. Wynnfrith got her hands into the crack as well, and they both pried it out with a loud crack. They froze and stared at each other, but there was no sound from the door.

“I don’t think there’s a guard outside,” Halldora said. “Maybe we can get through this wall before Feeblerod gets back.” Beyond the missing plank in the wall they could see the wooden houses and ramps of Alfhich and freedom.

They quickly pulled at another plank, as the whole room creaked with the effort. The second wood plank came loose with less noise.

But, then the heavy footsteps of Feeblerod could be heard as he approached. Halldora handed a plank to Wynnfrith. They both held the pieces of wood like clubs and knew what they had to do.

The door unlocked and Feeblerod entered with a bundle wrapped in a blanket. He was messily eating a piece of cured pork, the grease running down his several chins.

“Here my friend,” Wynnfrith seductively said, as Halldora positioned herself behind him.

But, Feeblerod instantly noticed the hole in the wall, and dropped the bundle.

“Well, I see the mice have been at the walls,” he said reaching for his sword.

But, before he could get it out, Halldora hit him as hard as she could with her plank. Wynnfrith followed Halldora and cracked him on the head as well.

Feeblerod let out a girlie grunt, spread his arms and used his weight to knock both women to the floor. He tried to draw his sword again, but Halldora jumped up, grabbed his arm and began to turn him. Wynnfrith saw what she was doing, leapt up, and helped.

His own enormous weight kept him from regaining his footing, or drawing his sword as Halldora and Wynnfrith spun the obese wretch.

“Into the wall,” Halldora cried to Wynnfrith and they guided the great, fat villain into one of the wooden walls of the room. He crashed into it with a resounding thud, and the whole room shook with the impact.

Halldora and Wynnfrith waited like warriors.

“Next time,” Halldora panted, “into the crack.”

“Don’t let him draw his sword,” Wynnfrith breathed.

Feeblerod was trying to do just that, as he struggled to his knees. Halldora grabbed his arm, but Feeblerod was able to punch Halldora. She fell to the floor. Feeblerod pulled back to hit her again, but Wynnfrith leapt on him and dug her fingers into his left eye.

With a high pitched scream, Feeblerod threw Wynnfrith off, and stood. Halldora jumped up and began to spin him again.

But Feeblerod fought her, trying once again to draw his sword. Wynnfrith got a hold of him, and they spun him again, his folds of fat gyrating with the speed.

“Now!” Halldora cried, and they both slammed him into the hole they had made by prying the two, loose planks out of the wall.

All three of them went crashing through the wooden wall, as planks exploded out onto the streets of Alfhich.

Down, the three of them fell, past the wooden walkways, onto a mud soaked street with a tremendous splash.

Halldora pulled Wynnfrith to her feet. Feeblerod was face down in the water, but began to sputter to life. Several startled soldiers who were loitering outside the house rushed down the wooden walkways to the muddy street.

Halldora saw one of the soldiers who refused to draw his sword on her.

“Defend your queen!” She cried.

The soldier stumbled then quickly drew his sword.

“Touch not our queen!” He cried to the other soldiers. His companion joined him, and a melee began amongst the soldiers who were descending to the muddy street below.

Halldora pulled Wynnfrith away from the mud, but Feeblerod grabbed a hold of Wynnfrith’s frock. Halldora kicked him in the face, and he let go with a bloody moan.

They rushed up into the town that was jammed with people. A crowd was beginning to gather to watch the soldiers fight. Halldora quickly hid her hair and face, as the two women concealed themselves amongst the meandering throng.

They tried to make for the bridge over the Holmwy River. But, fifty soldiers, who allowed no passage at all to the angry mob, blocked the bridge.

Halldora pulled Wynnfrith through the town, as an alarm went up. Soldiers were running through every street, stopping every citizen. There was no way out of Alfhich.

“Under there,” Wynnfrith whispered to Halldora, and the two women carefully climbed under a house raised on stilts. They were able to hide themselves completely among the rats and other insects swarming under the house.

They huddled together, and fell into a restless sleep in each other’s arms, as the search went on the rest of that cloudy, black night.

In the morning, Halldora woke to Wynnfrith gently shaking her.

“Wake,” Wynnfrith whispered with alarm. Halldora roused herself to find the tide was rising with the morning sun. They would have to get out from under the house or drown.

They carefully crept along the timbers and climbed out from under the house. But, they need not have been so careful as Alfhich had become choked with refugees from the Madrun Hills who had streamed into the town all night. And, more were arriving by the moment. They caught pieces of conversations, of an Archer and an elf who won a battle, then their hearts were glad, but also of a larger garond army on the way, then they shared in the crowd’s quiet, growing, pervasive fear.

The bridge over the Holmwy was completely barricaded by Feeblerod’s soldiers who would let no one pass. Every boat in the harbor had left for the opposite shore. Soldiers were stationed on the edges of the town and few were allowed to leave. Alfhich was bursting at the seams.

Halldora and Wynnfrith moved anonymously in the burgeoning crowd, until Halldora came face to face with the soldier who had saved them. He was stunned and motionless. A large gash along his face was bandaged.

“Your highness, I’ve found you,” he said in hushed tones. “Follow me quickly.”

Wynnfrith and Halldora shared a look. “We have no way of escaping Alfhich,” Wynnfrith said.

“And we need allies,” Halldora agreed. “But what if he leads us back to Feeblerod?”

“He has already risked his life,” Wynnfrith reasoned, “Do we have any other recourse?”

Halldora grimly nodded, and they followed the soldier to a small house jammed into a clutter of wooden houses on stilts.

Inside the small house was crowded with as many people as it could hold, soldiers and citizens, families and children.