The Solitary Arrow Ch. 21

One of them shouted something, and Harlen knew full well it was 'STOP!' no matter the language spoken. He stopped and began lifting his arms out from his body, in the universal gesture of surrender.

He started to turn back toward them, but the word was shouted again. Harlen heard footsteps behind him, then felt hands come from his side and move over his belt, drawing his sword.

The speaking person said something else, and the hands spun him around, turning him toward the group of cloaked shapes.

There were still a dozen of them; one was walking back to them from off to the side. They were professional enough that the one who had disarmed him had stayed clear of the archers' aiming line.

"Okay, you got me," said Harlen. Keeping his hands up and pushing his head back to cause his hood to fall from him.

One of the shapes, the leader, from what Harlen could tell, stepped forward and tossed back his hood. He was human, as Harlen had expected. He said something else that Harlen recognized; it was Ghantian speech. In an instant, he was very worried.

The man moved still closer to Harlen, staying off to the side, again. He smiled and nodded, saying something else in Ghantian.

Harlen said, "I don't speak Ghantian."

The man stopped smiling, and looked rather confused for a moment. He said something to the small group and one of the others lowered his bow and moved up beside the leader. They spoke for a moment, then the other man, a smaller man, and much younger, no more than twenty, turned to Harlen.

"You are Westron?" he asked.

Harlen nodded. "Yes," he replied.

The young man smiled and turned to the leader, speaking in that formal-sounding Abian language again. The leader looked at Harlen a moment, then said something back to the youth.

"Why are you here?" the young man repeated his leader's question.

Harlen pointed toward the elven village. "Helping defend Embalis," he said.

The translator repeated this in their language to the leader and there was an immediate animated discussion among the group, several of them dropped their aim on Harlen while they talked among themselves for a long moment.

At last, the young man turned to him again and opened his cloak. He was wearing a green tunic; almost identical to the one Harlen wore beneath his own cloak. "We are Windy Island Rangers," said the young man. "Coming to help Embalis, as well."

Harlen felt a massive sense of relief overcome him. "I'm glad you're not Ghantians," he admitted.

"We are also glad you are not a Ghantian," said the youth. "But why is a Westron defending Embalis?"

The other men were much more relaxed, though two did keep their bows up, but not drawn.

Harlen's mouth quirked up on one side, forming a very lopsided smile. "Because we were closer," he said, letting his cloak slip open, revealing his own green tunic.

There was an immediate reaction from the men, cries of disbelief predominated, though there was also some laughter. The youth translated Harlen's words to the leader who grinned a wide smile.

"You are a ranger?" asked the young ranger. "We were not aware that there were others."

Harlen shrugged. "We only just recently found out ourselves," he said.

The leader said something officious-sounding and one of the men came forward with Harlen's sword and handed it back to him. The other man gave him an apologetic smile.

A few suspicious looks still came from the group for another moment, until Ithiovol and Krieger approached in a cautious manner from behind him. He was glad to know that they had been backing him up, as best two could against a dozen.

Ithiovol said, "Well met, rangers," in elven.

Harlen nodded. "Yes, well met," also in elven.

The leader turned toward Harlen and Ithiovol. "I am glad to find there are more allies of the Windirii in the world," he said in elven, and bowed to them.

The group took them into their midst and there was much talking through the two who spoke Westron. Poor Krieger had a hard time of it since even Westron was a second language to him, and none of them spoke Southron.

Ithiovol regaled them with a much-abbreviated tale of the battle that had happened just two nights ago. The assembled dozen laughed at the utter surprise that the appearance of two hundred rangers right among their ranks caused the traitor army.

"It is good that we come in time to honor the fallen," said the young ranger, a youth named Rigilus. "Our fellow rangers and the elven folk, too." He then repeated those words in Windy Islander, and the assembled men nodded and murmured agreement.

With the help of the rangers, Harlen, Krieger, and Ithiovol finished circling the lake, not finding any more couples and headed back to the village. The rain started to break and tendrils of sunlight pierced the low cloud cover.

** Author's Notes **

I have changed how I go over my stories now, I hope you notice an improvement. Please let me know what you think of the result if it is noticably better/worse/odder/whatever than the chapters previous. As always, I invite you to send me corrections, comments, questions, and suggestions if you feel there is cause. --Mack