The Solitary Arrow Ch. 21

"No," the huntsman shook his head. "We're all accounted for."

"Right," said Tammer. Then he turned to Lord Ircandann. "You should inform your patrolling scouts, if I may advise milord. Those nine don't know the Isolationists lost. They may try something foolish."

Ircandann gave a quick, curt nod and murmured something to his new aide. That worthy took off at a jog toward the throne pavilion with a quick head bow. "I only hope that those who left the festivities and went into the wood are safe," the elven lord said, his face marked by deep worry.

"Me too, but short of panicking the whole village," said Tammer, "I don't see how we can recall them quickly."

---

The urgent pounding upon Hyandai's chamber door caused Harlen to turn suddenly in his sleep, this pushed Wendy, who was between Harlen and Hyandai, and caused Hyandai to flail about when she awoke tumbling off the small bed. She landed on her rump with a solid thunk onto the hardwood floor.

"What is it?" asked Hyandai, a tone of massive impatience in her normally placid voice.

An elven voice responded, "Lady, there is a small problem that needs Master Harlen's attention."

Harlen sat up. "Speak Westron, please," he said, having picked his name out of the elf's melodious babble.

"Master Harlen," came the accented reply, "Master Tammer would see you, as soon as may be."

Harlen emitted an immense sigh. "Very well, where do I meet him?" he asked.

"In the Royal Pavilion," the voice replied, muffled by the door and by the sound of Hyandai crawling back into the bed. The three had played a roughy, and for a long while; she was very tired.

Harlen slipped on his pants and boots while Hyandai watched with a worried expression. Wendy seemed to be able to sleep through almost any amount of noise.

"I have no idea," answered Harlen to Hyandai's unspoken question.

Hyandai's lips formed into a wan smile. "I know, beloved," she said. "Send for Wendy and I if you need us."

Nodding, Harlen pulled his tunic down over himself and grabbed his cloak and sword belt in passing toward the door. He slipped through the door and was belting the broadsword to his waist while walking the catwalk toward the ramps downward. He had managed to don the cloak against the morning chill before he had reached the stairs for the last leg of his vertical trek to the ground.

The sky was just beginning to brighten the eastern sky, and that sky promised rain this day, with heavy-bellied clouds looming low as they moved in from the south. Harlen crossed the field between the bottom of the stair and the pavilion at a jog to find Tammer, and over a dozen huntsmen, most of them the seniors among Harlen's profession. Ircandann was also there, along with a half dozen elven scouts. All the huntsmen and scouts were armed.

"What passes?" asked Harlen, approaching the large group of people.

Tammer smiled. "Good, you're conscious," he said, only half joking.

The huntsman pointed to the assembled men. "Trouble?" he asked.

"Of a sort, yes," replied Tammer. "Not that we know for sure there is any at all. Some of the prisoners from the Isolationist camp are missing. And we've some people who left the party to 'walk in the woods' last night." He chewed his lip. "We think they all had elven 'guides' for their little foray into the wilds, but we need them back in town, for their own safety."

Harlen surveyed the assembled huntsmen. Of course, they were the elder huntsmen, and all married. It made sense, decided Harlen; they would have been the first to bed down and would have done so in the barracks that had been provided for the 'rangers.' The alarming thought that crossed his mind next was that now HE was one of them. A wry smile crossed his face. He supposed it was not so bad.

The huntsmen and elves gathered into groups of one elf and two huntsmen and headed in different directions, planning to canvass the forest near the village. Harlen was with one such group, along with a huntsman named Krieger.

Krieger was a good enough fellow, but spoke horrid Westron. He was an immigrant from the Southern Realms. Big, broad-shoulders, and a massive appetite for beer. His florid, broad face, and shock of thick blond hair always made him look like he had just been awakened from the floor of a bar.

Their elven guide introduced himself as Ithiovol. He gave a curt nod and then turned and headed for their designated search area. The elf spoke over his shoulder at the two following humans.

"We have a particularly tricky area," said Ithiovol. "The wood around Tervilith Pond. There are many grottoes around it and it is a favorite trysting place for lovers." This last statement was accompanied by a slight turn of his head and a knowing grin. "We will have to use discretion as we search."

Harlen realized he had not picked up his bow. With any luck, he would not need the thing, anyway. Somehow, that thought did not comfort him.

They reached the lake and, within minutes, found a couple nesting in the tall grasses near the shore of the glittering lake. A quick conversation from Ithiovol with the elven woman and the couple was dressing and heading toward Embalis.

He smiled upon returning to the pair of humans. "I knew this spot would be occupied," said Ithiovol with a gleam in his eye. "I once courted that lady." He giggled while Harlen and Krieger laughed, and they headed around the lake, moving clockwise down its shore.

Next, they came across a couple that was cuddling beneath a small tree, a white gown fluttered in the breezes of morning from one branch. Ithiovol and Harlen were both prepared to extract answers as to why someone had violated the age limits the elves had placed upon willing participants in the night's revelries. Up until they saw a likewise white tunic lying in the grass nearby. It was one of the elder apprentices, not a huntsman. According to the laws, if both were under their legal ages, all was fair.

The elf called to them in a quiet voice until a pretty face and a less pretty but equally alarmed face popped up from the grasses. "Get yourselves dressed and back to town, immediately," said the elven scout. "There may be trouble about."

The trio of searchers then moved off, giving the youths privacy to don their clothes. They managed to roust a half dozen couples before the sun lifted its glow over the horizon, just in time to be blotted out by heavy rain clouds.

The second half of their warning and search mission was miserable. The clouds then let loose and rain poured forth in soaking torrents. "I hope they're smart enough to go home now, at least," said Harlen. It was cold rain, and chilled him to the bone, even through his cloak.

Chuckling, the elf nodded. "Young lovers are oft fools, Master Harlen," he said, as if imparting sage advice.

Harlen agreed and the three sheltered under an wide elm for a short while, trying to warm up in vain. If the Isolationists were out scheming and plotting in this downpour, then they were the more dedicated and deserved to win was the general thought in Harlen's mind.

---

"Hyandai of clan Yavanaur, traitor to her people," the cold voice said, rousing Hyandai from her sleep with a shock. She blinked and looked down toward her feet, where the voice had come from.

An elf stood there, a sword in hand, with an expression of utter disgust on his face.

"And bedded down with a human woman, additionally," he said, sneering at Wendy. She looked down at him with bleary eyes. "You really are a whore, are you not?" he asked, his face making a mock expression of incredulity.

"What the hell?" asked Wendy, finding her voice and blinking her eyes wide with realization.

The elven man yanked the coverlet from the bed. "Get up!" he said in a commanding voice, speaking Westron now. "Where is theEhladrel?"

"I do not have it," said Hyandai standing in her nakedness before the hateful elf. Wendy stood on the other side of the bed, also nude. Neither woman tried to cover herself, knowing that he would just derive some sick pleasure from their attempt.

"Rather attractive, for a human," said the elf, appraising Wendy with his eyes. "Not a hulking brood bitch at all."

She stared at him with simmering eyes. "Have a good look, pervert," said Wendy.

The elf smiled and turned half toward Hyandai. "She breeds outside her species, and I am the pervert," he said, pointing with the sword at Hyandai.

Wendy moved with a speed that surprised even the two quick-witted elves. Her foot jerked upward, and from what looked like nowhere, a six-foot fighting spear appeared in her hands. The elf tried to react to the sudden motion, as Wendy let loose with a bloodcurdling war cry. If nothing else, this elf's plans of quiet subtlety were now ruined.

He turned to face her, bringing the sword up in a defensive motion and batting the point of the spear aside with a flick of the blade. He was good, and that was bad.

What he had not faced, though, in combat, was a woman willing to do anything to put her opponent down. He smiled and stepped in toward her, inside her spear's effective reach. In that same instant, she brought her foot up in a smooth arc.

Up, beneath the skirt of his chain mail hauberk the foot went, lifting the hem and impacting his genitals with all the force Wendy could muster, which was considerable in her heightened state of alarm.

The elf heeled over at the waist, screaming in pain as his testicles were brutalized by the woman's toes. There was a hollow snapping sound from beneath his hauberk and Wendy screamed, too. Hyandai moved then, pulling theEhladrelfrom behind the headboard of her bed and letting it take her, fill her, and guide her.

The elven warrior started to lever himself upright with visible effort, and Wendy was trying to back up, limping, favoring her injured foot. He had no eyes for Hyandai right now, only for the naked human wench who had caused him great pain when he had all the advantages; she had ruined his plan, and he was going to kill her for that.

TheEhladrelhummed as it severed his arm at the shoulder. His slanted, silvern eyes widened, turning to face Hyandai. He croaked out half a syllable of something; it might have been a plea for mercy. But it was cut short by the point of the weapon piercing his sternum, rending through the chain mail as if it was just another layer of cloth and splitting his traitorous heart.

Wendy dropped the spear and grabbed for the post of the bed's footboard, trying to stay balanced with several broken toes. She looked up at Hyandai, and witnessed hard, callous eyes looking back at her.

"Are you well enough, human?" asked Hyandai.

The young woman blinked at the elf. "What?" asked Wendy, worried now. "What's the matter with you, Hyandai?" She was now trying to back away from the naked elven girl, coated in droplets of blood, and holding a long, beautiful, and bloody weapon of obvious power.

Hyandai blinked and dropped theEhladrelupon the bed. Her eyes, in an instant, softened and she ran to Wendy, embracing her.

Wendy began to cry. "You had almost the same look that elf had when you looked at me," she said into Hyandai's hair. "So cold."

Stroking Wendy's hair, Hyandai said, "I'm sorry, beloved Wendy. It was not me, it is theEhladrel."

"It hates humans?" asked Wendy, her voice high and frightened sounding.

Hyandai shook her head. "I do not think it cares one way or the other about humans, actually," she said at a near whisper. "It only cares about elves."

The door to the room burst open, causing both women to jump and begin reaching for their weapons again. However, it was Tammer this time, with three huntsmen behind him, and a handful of village guardsmen.

"What the hell?" asked Tammer, echoing his granddaughter's sentiments from just minutes before. He looked down at the corpse of the Isolationist on the floor, and at the two nude women, then back at the corpse. "Make yourselves decent so we can clean this mess up," he groused, then smiled. "Glad you two are okay," he added, pulling the door shut.

Hyandai went to her small wardrobe and gave Wendy a skirt and half-tunic from within. "Here, I am sure you can wear my clothes," she said, smiling. "We can truly share everything."

They soon dressed and Hyandai helped Wendy to the door, holding up her right arm and keeping the young woman from having to use her injured foot.

The elf maiden opened the door, only to find Tammer still there, talking to the other huntsmen and the elven guards, too.

The knot of soldiers and rangers passed into the room, past the two women. "So, what's this about?" asked Tammer.

"He was an Isolationist," explained Hyandai. "I suppose they were trying one last time, to seize theEhladrel."

The elder ranger nodded. "And your foot?" asked Tammer, eyeing his granddaughter's swelling appendage.

"I kicked an armored man in the sack," said Wendy in a proud tone. "Just like you taught me to."

Tammer patted her head. "Now if only you'd do that to men who try to seduce you," he said, grinning. "But still, well done. If a broken foot is all you suffer in taking on an armored man in the nude, you're one hell of a fighter."

Wendy beamed under her grandfather's praise, and Hyandai smiled at her.

The soldiers and rangers lifted the body out of the room, with one carrying the severed arm. Hyandai stopped Tammer as he passed out the door.

"Tammer, can you teach me to fight?" she asked. "I grow tired of being rescued by humans, I would like to be the heroine at some point." Her mind mulled over the fact that most of the threats to her life have been her own kind, elves, and her saviors, of late, have all been human, first Harlen, then Trevir, then all the huntsmen of Morrovale, and now Wendy.

The old ranger nodded. "I can teach you a few old tricks," said Tammer, patting her shoulder. "Though, from what Harlen says, when you have that thing," he pointed toward theEhladrel, "you hardly need training."

Hyandai nodded. "But it is not something I relish, handling that weapon," she said. "It does not like humans much, and I, well, rather love them." She turned and kissed Wendy's brow.

Wendy smiled and said. "Can you heal my foot?" she asked.

Hyandai shook her head, still smiling. "Not unless you wish me to cut your foot open to breathe onto the bones," she replied.

A grimace crossed the young woman's face. "Um, no," replied Wendy.

"I will take you to the healers, we have a few for just such injuries, and other ailments," said Hyandai.

Wendy smiled. "First, I want some food," she said. "I am famished."

Hyandai's stomach emitted a rather alarming sound, and Wendy looked down at the elf's smooth belly with wide eyes. "Sounds like you could use food, too," she said.

The expression on the pretty face of Hyandai was far from amused; she looked alarmed. Without warning, she ran for the catwalk railing, and then threw up over the side. A small part of her mind prayed that no one was below. She turned about afterward and faced Wendy.

"I thought surely that the nausea would pass when I let Verus go from my mind," said Hyandai, shaking her head. "I do not understand," her face wore an expression of immense worry.

Wendy looked at her, wearing an odd expression. "Nausea?" she asked. "As in vomiting every morning?"

Hyandai nodded, her expression miserable, and moving back toward Wendy. "Yes, most mornings, and sometimes other times of day," she said moving toward the pitcher of drinking water on the table.

Wendy began giggling.

Rinsing her mouth out with the water and spitting it into the washbasin, Hyandai turned and gave Wendy a peeved look. "I am glad you find my infirmity humorous." She said, with a measure of hurt in her voice.

Wiping tears form the corners of her eyes, Wendy stood upright with the assistance of the doorjamb. "I don't find your infirmity humorous, honey," said Wendy. "I find it humorous that you don't know what morning sickness is."

Hyandai blinked at her a moment. "What is morning sickness?" she asked.

Wendy fell into a fit of giggling for a moment again, then once again straightened. "Hyandai, you're pregnant," she said, stopping her giggles with an effort.

Still blinking and giving Wendy a dubious look, Hyandai asked, "How is me being ill related to being pregnant?"

"Don't you elves get morning sickness?" asked Wendy, eyes widening. "Lucky."

Shaking her head, Hyandai asked, "No. What is it?"

"Just part of being pregnant," answered Wendy. "Maybe it only happens to humans, or people with at least part human children."

"Why is this not common knowledge?" asked Hyandai, now upset. "A girl should know these things."

"I suspect human men don't go spreading it about to elven women, might scare them off," said Wendy, still stifling giggles. "I bet your healers know of it."

Hyandai looked down at the floor. "I have been refusing to see the healers," she said. "Foolishly, I thought it was disorientation from having another person's mind masking mine." She then looked up at Wendy. "You are certain of this?" asked Hyandai.

"Pretty much, yeah," replied Wendy, smiling.

Hyandai's face took on a broad smile. "Oh, my," said Hyandai, "I am with child."

The young woman nodded. "Probably," said Wendy. "Now, do you want to go see the healers, or midwives, or whatever you have here in Embalis?"

"Yes, very much," answered Hyandai, taking Wendy's arm again and draping it over her shoulder, then escorting her out the door.

---

Krieger grimaced at the downpour. "I am glad it is warmer in the wood," he observed. "This would be bad if in Morrovale, probably freezing rain." He pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders and moved back toward the tree trunk, where Harlen and Ithiovol crouched.

"That's true," agreed Harlen. Ithiovol just nodded.

The trio had searched almost halfway around the remaining half of the lake before being driven into cover by hail. They had found one couple hiding under the boughs of a large beech tree and still entwined with each other, using a blanket for cover. Harlen told the couple to brave the storm and get back to Embalis, using the blanket to shield them, if need be.

Harlen very much doubted there were any more trysting couples to find this far from Embalis, but wanted to make sure. They would finish the circuit of the lake.

"What is that?" said Ithiovol in a whisper, pointing off to their right, away from the lake.

There were a dozen shapes, moving with silent motions beneath the trees, amid the underbrush. The shapes were hard to make out, the eye refused to focus upon them. Harlen blinked a few times, then looked at his own camouflaged cloak.

"I don't know," replied Harlen, "but I aim to find out." He rose from the crouch they had been in and moved off among the trees. "Stay put," he whispered to them.

Krieger and Ithiovol watched him, and drew arrows, placing them to the strings of their bows.

Harlen moved as fast as he dared among the shrubs, though it was easy to be quieter than the background noise of the rain. The shapes had stopped moving, and were gathered under another wide elm.

He approached as near as he thought safe and cupped his hands to his ears, trying to pick up on any sounds coming from the group. He could see them now, but the cloaks hid their forms.

A voice came back to him, then an answering voice. It was not elven they were speaking; it sounded much like the rather strong speech of the Abians, to the north of the Western Realms.

What the hell would Abians be doing here? Harlen thought.

One of the voices cried something out to the others. He had been found out. His eyes widened when the dozen shapes all moved with amazing speed, arms came up with bows in them, and arrows flew from quivers onto strings. Harlen had not even fully turned, and knew it was a hopeless cause.