Free The Last Elf of Lanis by K. J. Hargan Page A

laughing and grunting to each other as they camped in a rocky mountain pass. From the shadows, he saw that they carried weapons which were unmistakably from his very home in Pelych, and one garond even wore a cloak which he had given to his wife. He had never seen garonds fitted for battle before. Now he knew who had slaughtered his family and all the people of the village.
    The rage that came over him was like a great swirling fire. With his bare hands he tore the armed garonds asunder. Then and there he vowed to extinguish the life of every garond upon the earth.
    The very next night he met the blind man who gave him the black arrows. Later he learned how to shoot them.
    After that, every day was a repayment of the massacre of his people. He lost count after killing over two hundred garond soldiers.
    The Archer faded to fitful sleep, silently weeping and thinking of the smile of his wife. Not more than an arrow’s shot from the Archer and the elf, Frea and her captors bedded down in the grasses of the meadow with their horses in the night’s rain.
     
    Alrhett and Yulenth trotted after the white wolf, Conniker. He moved quickly, and the old bones of Alrhett and Yulenth had trouble keeping up.
    Alrhett needed to rest and called Conniker back to them several times. The white wolf circled impatiently with his nose to the ground, as Alrhett and Yulenth sat on the moss and stumps at the edge of the Weald to catch their breath. The rain was hard and cold.
    Conniker licked Alrhett’s face, sniffling and woofing.
    “That’s all right,” she said to the wolf. “You’re doing a fine job.”
    “What? What did it say?” Yulenth asked.
    “He thinks he may have lost the scent. Many others have recently tracked through here, he says.”
    “Great,” Yulenth said slinking into his cloak. “Perhaps we should just make for Rogar Li and ask for help.”
    Alrhett was quiet and thoughtful. “No. We cannot go there,” was all she said.
    “Well, the boy is not going to get across the Bairn on his own. Perhaps he’ll cross over one of the Three Bridges of Rogar Li. Perhaps we should head for the Three Bridges.”
    “No,” Alrhett said solemnly, “We cannot ask hospitality of the wealdkin .”
    A long, strange, whining growl out of the dark stopped Yulenth’s protest. The hair stood up on Conniker’s back.
    “What was THAT?” Yulenth whispered.
    “What do you see?” She said to Conniker who seemed to be fixated on a point in the dark.
    “Garonds?” Yulenth whispered with wide, frightened eyes.
    “He doesn’t know,” Alrhett whispered. “He keeps saying, ‘bad thing’”.
    “Perhaps we’d best move into the trees,” Yulenth whispered.
    “I think that’s where it is,” Alrhett said in a low voice.
    Alrhett and Yulenth slowly rose staring intently at the dark sentinels of trees at the edge of the Weald forest. Conniker sidled in front of them lowly growling. A black shape moved amongst the trees.
    “Hush,” Alrhett breathed to Conniker.
    Then, to their right, th ree garond soldiers, weaponless and noisily clicking and snapping to each other, burst through the underbrush . They were frightened and out of breath. They stopped to bellow at each other, nearly coming to blows. Then they froze.
    A long, dark, undulating shape moved just within the blackness of the shadows behind the trees.
    Alrhett and Yulenth cowered in the tall grass watching as the three garonds screamed as long black arms reached out and began to rend them.
    Conniker’s eyes blazed, and his growl was fierce. “Silence, wolf,” Alrhett commanded.
    All was quiet. The garonds were dead, and a quiet crunching sound could be heard through the hard falling rain.
    Alrhett reached out and grabbed a good handful of Conniker’s bristling mane. Then, the crunching stopped, and the long, huge, slithering dark shape was moving once again amongst the trees.
    With a howl, Conniker violently pulled away from Alrhett and launched himself directly at the