The Solitary Arrow Ch. 22
Those that fought alongside him told of how he had smote the hateful elf that had pierced him. Then Kenik had thrown himself to the fore to stop an attempted charge of many elven spearmen. His sacrifice had gained precious time for the Rangers of Morrovale to consolidate their line in the first swirling wave of the melee. Thereby he helped prepare the way for the rangers to drive a deep wedge into the faltering Isolationist ranks.
Not all the stories of the fallen were so glorious, but all were just as important. Each had a voice, and they sung each dirge with warm heart and gentle thanks. As the harmony blended, many eyes saw the fallen. They stood in a long file, shoulder-to-shoulder, ready to stand, even after giving all, in defense of others again, if they called them.
Now free of the bonds of the flesh, they could go anywhere, it was known. But, they were invited to stay with the spirits already in Embalis if they wished. Else, they could go wherever it was they thought they would be happiest, and the most at rest. None would know what their choices were, save the clerics of the elvenkind, whom the elven folk said spoke with them. These clergy were sworn never to give away the secrets of the spirits, though, and would not, unless a spirit, itself, bade such.
The sun's top touched the horizon, and the voices lifted in a stirring crescendo. This was to send the spirits forth to their rest on a gale of beautiful sound and with the blessings of the living gathered at the ceremony. Then the voices, almost as one, dropped off. In their place was a stunning silence. It seemed to last a long moment, then they could hear the wind again, and birds, and the sounds of people's shifting.
Elven boys, and young huntsmen, wearing long tunics of purest white moved toward the pyres. Each held a long torch, unlit. The first set his torch to the wood, and it burst into flame, the next down that row followed suit, doing the same, then the next. Down each row, the flames began to leap, crackling and red at first, then darkening to blue at the base. The elves had treated the logs with some mixture of the elves that caused the wood to burn with an intense heat. Within a mere moment, all the pyres were aflame.
The cool air tried to subdue the heat of the fires, but it failed, and it grew quite warm in the valley that evening. The sky reflected the orange glare of the fires, as it was thought. Indeed, folk would see it for miles about, perhaps even as far as the nearest other elven communities. People, both men and elves, stood before their chosen pyramid of flickering flames, and they talked in hushed tones among each group.
The pyres burned well into the night, full dark was now upon the valley, as the elves had extinguished all other lights for this night. The people started to move back toward the main village in small groups. There they sat in quiet pairs, trios, and a few groups of more and talked with reverence by the sole light source they had this night.
"Still so many," said Hyandai to Harlen as he held her. He stood behind her and had his arms about her shoulders. She rested her hands upon his forearms.
Harlen kissed the top of her head. "It is this way with the battles of men, every time," he said, coming out of deep thought. His voice had the sound of resignation. "Or worse. I have seen far larger bonfires for the fallen," he said.
"How terrible," said Hyandai.
Harlen's face grew dour. "Do you still think blending with the humans is a good idea?" he asked. "Yes," replied Hyandai without pause, "perhaps it will lessen humanity's desire for war, having elven blood tempering their emotions."
He smiled. "Perhaps it will," agreed Harlen.
Wendy approached them, and stood beside Hyandai, facing the fires, her face lit by the dancing flames. Harlen moved to between them and put one arm about her shoulder, as well. She smiled back and up at him, and rested her hand on his forearm, welcoming his touch.
"It was beautiful," said Wendy in a soft voice.
Hyandai nodded. "It was," she agreed, reaching out a hand to touch Wendy's still tear-streaked cheek.
The young ranger who spoke Westron, Rigilus, approached the trio. "Commander Harlen?" he asked, "may I speak a moment with you?"
The use of a formal title took Harlen aback, but he nodded nonetheless. He kissed Hyandai on the top of her head again and then kissed Wendy's brow as he walked toward the Windy Islander.
They walked on a path perpendicular to the long line of burning pyres, both of them spending long moments watching the flickering flames of the hundred fallen. "So, what can I do for you?" asked Harlen after they had moved a good way from the women.
"My commander has requested that I to go to Morrovale with your company, when you depart on the morrow," Rigilus said with his ever earnest voice. "They wish me to act, in part, as an emissary between your rangers and ours."
Harlen gave a slow nod. "I see," he said. "We, of course will welcome you, but you will need to secure the permission of our duke to remain in Morrovale. I foresee little trouble in that, though."
He thought a moment. "Why did you not speak to Master Tammer of this?" he asked.
Rigilus coughed in his discomfort. "Commander Tammer told me to speak to you," he said. "He said that he would be standing you in his place once this campaign is completed."
"Did he?" asked Harlen, eyes widening. "Well, that's something I wish they had told me of sooner." Harlen donned a wide smile. "Very well, then. Of course you may join our march back to Morrovale tomorrow, and you are most welcome."
"Thank you, sir," said Rigilus with an air of immense relief. "I have not been a ranger for long, and the idea of trekking through a long stretch of Windir alone was somewhat daunting." "You should understand one thing, though, Rigilus," cautioned Harlen. "We are not the same as your rangers in the Windy Isles. We do not organize ourselves at most times. We are huntsmen first, and foremost."
"So I have heard," said Rigilus. "I will, then, try to fit in within that structure, sir."
Harlen nodded. "Conveniently, there have been recent vacancies in allotments, I fear," he said, looking with much significance toward the bonfires. "Given your more thorough training, I fear not that you will be a fine huntsman, perhaps the very best of us."
Rigilus blushed and lowered his head in humility. "I have heard of your company's prowess on the field," he said. "I would not belittle your skills as either warriors or huntsmen, sir."
Harlen chuckled, and grabbed the smaller man's shoulder. "Diplomatically said, Rigilus," said Harlen. "You will be a fine emissary."
They had managed to walk all the way to the far side of the village. They now stood upon a low hillock that just a day ago had been one of the defensive positions of the village. Harlen marveled at how thorough and efficient were the elves whom had cleared away the detritus of battle. A large portion of the palisade was now burning as part of the pyres. The grass was already regrowing and several saplings that were planted just yesterday in place of felled trees were already showing many years' worth of growth.
True to Hyandai's promises, the villagers were constructing new homes in the boughs of the mighty ornthalion trees of the village. No homes would be on the ground now. Civic buildings and places that had to be so, of necessity, were all that would remain ground-bound. One such was her father's smithy, which Harlen intended to visit ere the Morrovale company left on the morrow.
"Am I dismissed, sir?" asked Rigilus.
"What?" asked Harlen, blinking. "Oh. If you wish to be," he said. "You will learn quickly. We are not a military group, Rigilus. We do not stand on formality," Harlen paused, "or ranks."
Rigilus nodded. "Commander Tammer said you would say that," he said, smiling. "Just as well, sir, as I would ask a few questions of you."
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LADIES IN NUDE
Russian Brides
LADIES IN NUDE
Russian Brides
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