The Solitary Arrow Ch. 17

Hyandai's normal expression returned, though still saddened and near to tears. "Harlen, please, be careful." She said, kissing him deeply. The kiss lasted a long moment, then they pulled apart as the nobles returned, with their entourage, and a half dozen elven warriors, dressed similarly to the ones who had brought them to town, in close fitting leather armor, and shorter cloaks.

"Be watchful, my love." Harlen said as she stepped back. "I am going home, you're the one staying in a foreign land." He looked at all the slanted elven eyes about him. Most of them were full of sympathy, but a few were cold and uncaring of the lovers' dilemma. Luckily, none of the soldiers seemed to be of the latter sort.

"I am Cendran, I will be leading your escort, Master Harlen." He said. He performed a head-bow and then extended his hand, human-fashion. Harlen was surprised at the strength of the elf's grip. These riders were taller and broader built than most of their kindred, probably selected for cavalry due to those facts. Cendran was almost six feet in height, and well muscled.

Hyandai was led away by Lady Melewen and two other women. She constantly turned about, though, watching Harlen with eyes full of tears. Finally, Harlen could no longer take stand the wrenching on his chest.

"Lead me to the horses, Cendran, please, I must get away before I change my mind and get myself into trouble." Harlen said.

Cendran nodded with understanding marking his face. "Of course, Master Harlen."

They led him to the outer perimeter of the massive chamber, then down to seven horses, all fine beasts, lean and powerful. They wore mottled green cloth covers over their white and brown markings. Camouflage, Harlen realized.

"We will be riding very fast and hard, Master Harlen." Cendran said. "We are commanded to have you to the river by dark."

Harlen nodded. He glanced over and saw Hyandai being led up a stair that wound about one of theornthalion trees. Soon she was lost to his sight as she climbed up and around the massive trunk. Before her form passed out of sight, she gave him one last, long look, and then bowed her head and walked from view.

"Of course." Harlen said, turning to Cendran.

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The trip was a fast one, as promised. These horses were quick, Harlen soon realized. He wondered how they bred horses that could make such speed upon loamy soil and rough ground. Regardless, these beasts did so, galloping at a speed that was both exhilarating and frightening. They tore through clearings, and vaulted over shrubbery that Harlen would have sworn too high and deep to clear, but the horses made little of it, or the burden of a grown human.

It was not for over half the trip that Harlen realized that they were not simply riding, but two of the horsemen were chanting as they went, quietly, but chanting. The horses were under a spell, or multiple spells. After almost five hours they had covered the entire distance between Embalis and the ford. The elves stopped at the ford, Cendran riding up beside Harlen.

"Value my words as you will, Harlen." Cendran said. "I think the lords make a mistake sending you away, as do many others." He smiled at the human. "At the very least, you would be another strong arm against the traitors."

The other five horsemen nodded their individual assents. Saluting Harlen with a hand across their chest, laid flat, and bowing their heads.

"Take the horse, Harlen." Cendran said. "My own gift to you for your assistance in recovering theEhladrel." His face grew very serious. "Without that gift, what little hope we now have would not be. I would thank you for helping return the Lady Hyandai to us, but your trothplait speaks of thanks and blessings I could never match." The other riders chuckled slightly at that, along with Cendran's broad smile.

Harlen smiled and patted the horse's neck. "Does he have a name?" He asked the rider.

Cendran chuckled. "Yes, but he has not told it to me." He said. "Perhaps he will tell you."

Harlen chuckled, as well. "I thank you for the beast, then, Cendran." He said. "He is a fine animal, I will care for him well."

A moment passed, and Harlen felt it was time for farewell. "Cendran, please do me a favor."

"If it be in my power, Master Harlen, it will be done." The elf said.

"Watch over Hyandai for me." Harlen said. "I will not be able to live without her."

Cendran saluted. "It will be done." He said. "My men and I will protect her with our very lives." The other five nodded assent as well, murmuring agreement in both Westron and elven.

"Oh." Harlen said, holding out the soft leather pouch with the mockEhladrel in it. "Please give this to Hyandai, she needs to find a young would-be blade dancer to gift it to."

Cendran took it with a smile, and looked at it. "Well crafted, Harlen." He said, grinning. "A young lad or lass will treasure it, especially knowing human hands wrought it."

Harlen had never thought that elves might value human produced items of quality in the same way humans valued the elven products.

"Then me thank you and hope to see all of you soon, after a grievous victory." Harlen intoned, in passable elven.

The elves smiled and wheeled their mounts about. Harlen had no doubt they would watch from the wood until he rode out of sight toward Morrovale.

He was unsure what to do. He was not even sure he could find Embalis again without a guide. He guided the horse across the river, crossing the ford easily with the mount's powerful swimming. The horse seemed a bit out of place, and nervous in the rather open terrain it now traversed as it crossed through the ruins of Markham's Ford. He looked back at Windir, the thought came to him again to ride back into the wood and find Embalis and steal Hyandai from them. It was just as quickly discarded.

No. He would have to play the elven game to have his elven woman. He now saw the plight of their love and the risks it would have to endure. He rode onward, at a slow trot. He would be in Morrovale before midnight with the aid of the horse. His heart felt like it was being wrenched from his chest as the distance between him and his beloved increased.

Harlen set his jaw sternly and rode hard for the village. Determined to get the moving over and done.

Just before midnight, he tied the horse's reigns at a post outside the Pierced Boar. "You stay put N'umessa." He said, stroking the muzzle of the beast. The beast snorted slightly and began drinking the water in the trough before the post.

He walked into the tavern, and found it lightly populated, just a few of the die hard drinkers. "Harlen!" Called Tammer. "Welcome back, and sooner than I had thought."

A second later, he stopped smiling at his former apprentice. "Oh, damn." He said, quietly. He walked up and patted Harlen's shoulder. "What happened son?" He said.

"Tammer." Harlen said. "They made her stay and made me leave, until some sort of dispute is settled."

Tammer nodded. "But she will be coming back?" He said, hopefully.

Harlen nodded dejectedly. "Yes." He said. "After the battle."

"Battle?" Tammer said, looking at Harlen askance. "What's that about?"

There's going to be a civil war, between Hyandai's village and some rogue elven isolationists." Harlen explained.

"May the One Protect." Tammer said, his voice distant. "There's never been anything like that I've ever heard."

"There is, or so Hyandai says." Harlen said. "When the dark elves split from the elves of the surface, thousands of years ago."

"Shit." Tammer muttered. "That's just bloody wonderful."

"Give me a bottle of rum, Tammer, and a shot glass, and beer." Harlen said, glowering at his idle hands. "And keep the beer flowing."

Tammer nodded and fetched the requested spirits.

Harlen looked down at the shot glass of brown liquid, and at the bottle of even more of it, and at the tall mug of beer. Well, this will have to do, won't it? He asked himself.

********** Author's Notes **********

I would like to thank all the readers of The Solitary Arrow for their ongoing commentary and criticism regarding this work. I am constantly striving to better the quality of this tale and welcome all constructive criticism, suggestions, and corrections. (EDIT 1.0)