Alone, Yulenth ran through the blackened city, the fall wind whipping through the bare, snaking branches.
“Get her!” A chorus of men yelled.
Yulenth looked over a bridge to see a group of killers surrounding the blue cloak on a wooden span below. Then, swords plunged in, again and again, blood splashed.
“NOOOO!” Yulenth cried in horror.
The Mage pulled at Yulenth.
“I can get you out “ The Mage cried, “but you must follow quickly!”
The old man was fast for his appearing age, and Yulenth had trouble keeping up as they ran down the levels of the city, masked killers running, searching for him in the inky blackness.
Yulenth’s mind raced in the darkness of the night. He was alone now. His wife was dead, foully assassinated.
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 carefully 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 astonishme
nt.
“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 many 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.
The Last Elf of Lanis Page 23
