Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Solitary Arrow by Mack the Knife

   Part Nineteen

   Harlen could scarcely remember being so tired.  The horses, even as
powerful and hardy as they were, now dragged their feet along the mossy
soil of the wood.  The sun had risen several hours before, as they forded
the river separating Windir from the duchy.  Without the enhancing magics
that the cavalrymen had been using, the trip was very long, indeed.

   Several times, Harlen had watched Ceriandel nearly slump forward in his
saddle, only to snap his eyes open and sit back upright.

   "We must rest a short while." Harlen finally said as Ceriandel once
again levered himself upright in the saddle.  "It will serve no purpose for
us to make a grave mistake due to exhaustion."

   The elf nodded agreement, and brought his horse to a stop near a thick
patch of shrub.  The stunted trees were easily high enough to hide within,
and mercifully hollow inside their leafy shroud.  The pair guided their
horses into the canopy and then laid upon the saddle blankets.

   With only a very few words exchanged between the two men, they cast
themselves into sleep.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   Hyandai watched the companies of Isolationists march out of the wood and
take up positions across the valley from Embalis.  The guards upon the wall
watched, too, nervously.  It was a sizable force, already larger than their
own, and the scouts said that more were on the way before they retreated,
themselves, behind the village's defenses.  The last of the moving forces
would be here by tomorrow night.

   Embalis was besieged.

   Truth be told she was not at all sure she could do this.  Lead an army
into battle and order people to their deaths.  Her hands shook and her
stomach turned over painfully as she clutched the railing of the catwalk.
The sun was low in the sky, and still no help came.  None had been
promised. The Ghantian offensive was sapping all the forces that the small
nation could spare and this little skirmish along their northern frontier
would have to wait.

   "They shall send reinforcements." She said in a low, almost male voice.
"About six months after we are all dead."

   Her personal aide, Ealina, looked at her.  "Lady Hyandai?" She asked.

   "Sorry, I was simply thinking out loud." Hyandai said, turning to the
lovely elven girl.

   She was several years younger than Hyandai, and not even close to being
of age.  The girl blinked down at the massing army.

   "Lady, do you foresee defeat?  Or victory?" Ealina asked, her silver
eyes wide and worried.

   Hyandai gave out a long sigh.  "I foresee death for many." She said. 
"But I cannot foretell of who will emerge victorious."

   Ealina smiled gently.  "We will be victorious." She said, with a small
amount of self-assuredness.  "We are on the side of right."

   "I wish I were so certain that correctness granted victory." Hyandai
said quietly.  "But it does not seem to be so." She turned and walked back
into the small room she had turned into her command post.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   Ceriandel awoke first, the sound of nearby footsteps rousing him from
his fitful slumber.  He peered out of their concealment to see one of the
scouts of the village, injured but still afoot.  He was moving away from
Embalis, though.  The young scout's eyes were haunted, like those of a
panicked animal.

   It grieved Ceriandel to see a fellow elf, or any intelligent being look
thus.  He hailed the elf, holding out a peaceful hand.

   "Scout of Embalis." He said.  "Come and rest, we are friends."

   The scout started at the sound of his voice and spun about, flashing out
his hyandai.  "Who is there?" The scout demanded.  The look of panic was
now a flashing hostility, worry, yes, but more determination and anger. 
Ceriandel was glad to see it.

   "I am Ceriandel of clan Yavanhaur." He said.  "And we are allied, lest
you be serving the traitors."

   Harlen had awoken to the speech, unused as he was to elven words that
they demanded attention.

   "I serve no traitors." The elf said.  "I am Mathalas.  I was sent forth
to scout this way, but when I tried to return, I found my way filled with
foes."

   Ceriandel nodded.  "Come, rest and be comforted." he said.

   The elf nodded, deciding he had little to lose at this point.  He
sheathed his weapon and slid through the branches of the shrubby tree and
started at the sight of Harlen, standing and stretching in the dimness.

   "A human?" Mathalas asked.  "I had heard they sent him away."

   Ceriandel chuckled.  "They did." He confirmed.  "I am bringing him
back."

   Harlen said.  "Well met Mathalas." He had overheard them outside and
gleaned the scout's name.

   The elf executed one of the quick head-bows, then stood again, a wicked
grin crossing his rather roguish face.  "The leadership will be sorely put
off that you have brought this man back." Mathalas said to Ceriandel.

   "They will have to cope." Said Ceriandel.  "He is the Warleader's
betrothed, and from what I know, the Warleader out ranks the Lord and Lady
of a town during time of conflict."

   The scout nodded.  "A technicality that may save your title." He said,
tapping his chin thoughtfully.  "But they have other ways of making one
regret crossing them."

   "They can do their worst." The blade dancer said.  "I welcome it, so
long as my sister is happy and we have victory through her leadership."

   Harlen held out a large loaf of bread to the two elves, and a jar of
plum preserves.  The scout ate heartily, being quite famished after several
days in the wood.  Ceriandel more picked at his portion, thinking hard
between bites.

   "That worries me most of all." Harlen said, watching Ceriandel eat. 
"Hyandai always had a, well, a healthy appetite.  Yet you say she cannot
even keep food down now."

   Ceriandel laughed at that.  "Diplomatically put, Harlen." He said. 
"Hyandai eats like a wolf who has starved two weeks." He continued smiling
long after his laughter died off.  "And, yes, for one such as her, being
unable to eat is a sore trial, I deem."

   The scout was leaning with his back to the trunk.  "Hyandai is a good
Warleader." He said.  "I met her twice.  She knows her mind and heeds not
foolish counsel."

   Harlen nodded, as did Ceriandel.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   Hyandai emerged from the privy, her face flush.  Her anger at herself
over her lack of fortitude was the main cause, but some of it was her
discomfort.  She could not keep food down and it annoyed her.  Rinsing her
mouth with water, she spit over the railing, belatedly checking downward
for possible victims of an aquatic bombardment.

   Two of the captains patiently awaited her.  They had seen her for days
now, growing more frail and losing weight.  "Lady Hyandai, a heal . . .."
He started to say.

   "No!" She hissed at him, interrupting the captain and forcing him to
take a half-step backward.  "No healers.  I told you, they have more
important matters to tend to.  There is a war going on, and they don not
have time for some girl who cannot keep her sliced apples down."

   She turned toward the model of the village and looked down at it.  "You
say there are more, even, than we thought?" She asked.

   He nodded.  "At least two hundreds." He said.  "It was sheer luck that
one of our scouts happened upon the camp, it was well hidden in a remote
vale." He pointed at a map, lacquered to a wooden panel on the wall.  "They
were encamped here, and would be marching even now, if they wish to be here
by tomorrow night."

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   Ceriandel tended to the wounds of the scout dutifully, if not
enthusiastically.  The elven healing breath was rather personal contact,
and most often administered across sexual lines, however, there were no
females present, and the chore was a necessary one.

   The three got up and mounted the much refreshed horses.  The scout had
fetched several bags of water for the beasts and they seemed almost eager
to be off now.

   Mounted with Harlen alone, and the scout behind Ceriandel, they set off
again, angling due south now, so as to come to Embalis from its south side.
If they had the north side covered, one would hope that there were not
enough of them to place picket all about the town.

   It was growing dark, and the scout changed to Harlen's horse.  In part
this was to save the strength of Ceriandel's beast, and in part to let the
scout guide the human's mount in the darkness, where Harlen was nearly
blind.  The horses were likewise nearly blind, but were trained to trust
their rider's guidance in darkness.  They slowed to a canter, though, and
would not allow themselves to be goaded into greater speed.

   They rode into the night, and only stopped for a short break at the
banks of a brook as the sky was lightening in the east.  Neither friend nor
foe did they meet, nor even many animals.  The coming war had left a
tension in the wood, that even animals could sense.  Even Harlen could feel
that something of consequence was passing.

   "We are well south of Embalis now." Ceriandel said, looking about into
the growing light.  "It will take most of the day to move back toward the
village and come from its due south."

   The scout nodded agreement.  "From what I saw of their movements, they
cannot have formed their regiments near the village until, at earliest,
yesterday night.  Two of their encampments were still breaking down camp as
I sighted them."

   Harlen was relieved to hear that.  "So they cannot attack before
tonight?" He asked.

   "Exactly." The scout said.  "Armies are not fleet of foot, even elven
armies." Mathalas said.

   "I do not expect them to tarry long." Said Ceriandel.  "They are
impatient to get this conflict underway.  Once they are assembled, they
will attack."

   They let the horses rest a couple of hours while they, themselves took a
little sleep.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   "A thousand?" Hyandai asked, looking at the captain dubiously.  "You are
certain?"

   He nodded.  "At least, including the one company that still marches on
us."

   "Two and a half to one." She murmured.  "And their ranks far fuller of
trained warriors than ours." She looked at the captain.  "Perhaps we should
consider retreat."

   He shook his head.  "Then they would likely catch us without even our
hasty defenses." He said.  "No, we should either surrender or fight here."

   "Surrender." Hyandai said, her face rather morose.  "No, I do not think
we will be surrendering to those treacherous persons.  They tried to kill
me in my bed, they will not keep their word if it suits them.  I believe
they have grown blinded by their zeal to further their goals, forsaking all
other things."

   "Fanatics are often the worst enemy one can have, they are absolutely
convinced of their correctness, and other opinions are moot." The captain
said, shaking his head.  "I understand there are some entire human cultures
of that sort."

   Hyandai nodded.  "There are." She said.  "The Black Theocracy and Costa
Roja." She looked at a map of Feldare.  "They are quite different and both
quite convinced their way is the only right way."

   "And now, even our own people fall to the appeal of zealotry." The
captain said quietly.  "It proves we are not so superior, does it not?"

   Hyandai smiled.  The captain was a Warwolf, like herself, and his
viewpoint only reinforced that.  The road to their downfall has and is
their rather high opinion of themselves.  To believe themselves superior to
humanity, because of long span of years, or agility, or even innate magical
ability.  Foolishness.  Humanity was just as valid an expression of the
will of the Spirits as elfkind.

   Did not man build great empires?  Did man not wield mighty magics?  Did
they not show great generosity of spirit?  Hyandai smiled.  Elves and man
should be brothers, not competitors.  To compete with man, or man to
compete with elvenkind was foolishness, they had much to offer one another.

   "I have to admit, Lady Hyandai." The captain said.  "You are an
inspiration to those of us who believe as we do." He meant her betrothal to
Harlen, a human.

   "I did not seek out a human mate, Captain Lemlithis." She said.  "I
simply did not discount a great man because his ears were round." She
giggled at the reference.  Most warwolves believed that this was possibly
the greatest physical difference between humans and elves.  It was sort of
a running joke with them.

   Lemlithis nodded.  "Of course, your heart led you to your choice." He
agreed.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   Harlen awoke to Ceriandel shaking his foot with his own foot.  "Let us
be going." The blade dancer said.  "Else we may be too late."

   The three rode hard again that day, driving the horses to a froth.  The
beasts were beginning to weaken overall, though, as horses cannot be driven
for several days straight without long-term hurt.

   They had slowed to little better than a walk by middle afternoon, and
even that taxed the horses now.  The forest slowly crept by them, and they
started to fear that they would not arrive even in the night.

   At the fall of darkness.  They dismounted and started walking the
horses, leading them by their bits.  It would do them little good to kill
the beasts when they may well be needed in the village.  They were near
now, and Harlen could vaguely make out the smell of smoke.

   "Already they fight?" He asked.

   The scout shook his head.  "Lady Hyandai had ordered many buildings
razed to clear what she termed `free fire zones' for the archers." He said.
"The scent you smell is old smoke, from those burnings."

   Finally, they saw the first lights of the village, high in the trees
overhead and at a distance.  They all began to move forward cautiously,
watching about themselves for enemy or even village elves who might mistake
them for enemy soldiers.  They did not wish to be attacked by either side
at this point.

   They came to a palisade, with a rude gate set into it, and a dozen
militia manning it.  The elves grew alert as they came near, rising from
their positions and regarding them suspiciously.

   "Who is there?" Asked one of the militiamen, seemingly their senior
officer.

   "Ceriandel of clan Yavanhaur, Mathalas the scout, and Harlen of
Morrovale." Ceriandel said.

   The sight of the human among the three approaching figures caused a bit
of a stir, but also confirmed that it was hardly Isolationists before them.

   The gate groaned open and they allowed the three to enter.  The horses
were taken and guided to the stables.  Three of the militiamen walked with
the three toward the center of the village.

   Up a long stair they climbed, high into the branches of the mightiest of
the ornthalion trees in the village.  This was the Turaorn, the master
tree, the eldest and most revered ornthalion of the area.

   The three guards led them into a small chamber.  "Wait here, someone
will come and decide what is to be done with you." Two of the guards stood
outside, on the catwalk, and watched the three in the chamber.  They knew
they could easily overpower the guards, but to what end?  So the three
simply sat at chairs about a small table in the center of the room.

   A few minutes later a young female came into the room.  "I am Ealina,
aide to Hyandai." She said, as she entered, but stopped speaking as she
regarded the seated figures.

   "Ehladrim Ceriandel?" She asked, then turned her eyes to Harlen.  "And a
man of the Westrons?"

   She looked at the scout, whom she knew personally.  "Mathalas, you will
go report to your company, they should be near the northeast palisade." She
said.

   Mathalas gave the pair a last look and said.  "May fate be with you." He
said, and went out the door, giving Ealina a quick nodding bow as he passed
her.

   Ealina looked back at the two militiamen.  "You may go." She said. 
"These men are in my keeping now."

   They looked at each other a moment, then nodded and left.

   "Unless I am sorely mistaken." Ealina said.  "You are Harlen of
Morrovale.  Lady Hyandai's bethrothed." She looked at Ceriandel.  "And you
are Ceriandel, who was recently reported missing, or miscreant.  The lady's
brother."

   A small smile crossed her beautiful, angular face.  "I see the makings
of a conspiracy here." She said.  "One to perhaps comfort our Warleader
when her health is failing."

   Ceriandel smiled.  "It might just be so." He said.  "But we should see
the lady before the village's rulers hear of our arrival."

   She turned to him.  "I could not shirk my duties so easily." She said.
"But I am a busy woman, I might find myself unavoidably detained for a
while after I bring you to the Warleader for disposition." She turned
toward the door.  "Come with me, you are made arrest, keep that in mind."

   "Of course." Ceriandel said, grinning as he slid his chair back.

   Harlen stood as well and followed them as they all moved about the
catwalk then up several ramps to another catwalk.  A faint blue glow
emanated from the room, she led them in.

   The two saw a slender figure silhouetted against the glowing blue model
of the village.  Harlen hardly recognized Hyandai in chain armor and girt
with a long warsword as well as her hyandai.

   "Lady Hyandai." Ealina said.  "The south gate brought me two refugees
that claim to have valuable tactical information."

   "I will see them." Hyandai said, her voice sounded tired and distant. 
"Have them brought to me."

   Ealina smiled at the pair.  "Warleader, they are here now."

   Hyandai turned slowly, her face showing more weariness than even her
voice.  "Very well, you ca . . .." She stopped speaking as Harlen and
Ceriandel spun into her view.

   "Harlen?" She asked, as if doubting that it was really him.  A half a
heartbeat later she was pressed against him tightly, her chainmail pinching
him here and there, but he did not complain.  Tears flowed from her eyes
like raindrops as she moved her hands again and again for better purchase
to cling to him more tightly.

   Ceriandel and Ealina stepped across the room to regard the map at a
discreet distance from the couple.  He began asking her questions of the
situation while she showed him the relevant map areas with her fingertip.

   "You are not supposed to be here." She said into his chest.  "They told
you to wait for us to contact you."

   "One of you did." He smiled.  "Ceriandel came and fetched me." He was
nuzzling her fine, silken hair and inhaling deeply her cinnamon scent.

   She giggled.  "I suppose he told you I was dying?" She said, pulling
back at last to look up at him.

   Harlen nodded.  "Something like that." He confirmed.

   She cast an attempt at an annoyed look at her brother.  "He
exaggerates." She said.  "I have been working my mind a bit overmuch these
last days, and it is affecting my appetite."

   Harlen nodded, touching her neck and shoulder.  "And the emotional
outbursts?" He inquired.

   She shrugged.  "The same thing." She said.  "I have been reconstructing
another person's mind within my own.  It is bound to have detrimental
effects on me."

   Hyandai smiled up at him.  "I foresee some of those emotional
difficulties being rather absent now you are with me." She said.

   "They may try to send me away again." Harlen offered.

   "They would not." Hyandai said.  "They cannot spare an escort, and to
send you alone would be tantamount to a death sentence." She took hold of
the sides of his head.  "For good or ill, you are here, now, and will be
here for the battle, I fear."

   She pulled him down to her and kissed him soundly.  He did not recall
her ever kissing with such strength and urgency.  Come to think of it, he
didn't remember her ever able to pull him down quite so forcefully either.

   "Tales of your weakened state are apparently exaggerated, as well."
Harlen said as he came up for air.

   Hyandai giggled again.  "No." She said.  "That is this armor, it grants
me some strength.  I have grown frail in the last few days, but then again,
I've not been sleeping much."

   She took his hand and led him to the model of the village.  Ceriandel
and Ealina regarded them as they approached.

   Ealina could see more color in Hyandai's face already, so deemed her
decision the right one.

   Ceriandel saw his sister smiling, so arrived at the same conclusion.

   Harlen was too happy just to be with his beloved, that he hardly could
think at all.

   "Ealina, I will be in my chambers for an hour." Hyandai said.  "Alert me
if anything changes."

   "Of course, Lady Hyandai." The aide said, smiling.

   Hyandai led Harlen across the sloping catwalk to her own room, at least
what was serving as her room for now.  Upon entering she shut the door.

   "I have missed you greatly." She said, her back pressed to the door.

   Harlen smiled, turning to face her.  "And I, you, very much." He said,
and walked up to her.  He kissed her again and she responded warmly,
pressing her mail-clad body against him.

   "Can we manage with the armor on?" Hyandai asked "If I remove it, I may
not be a very active lover."

   Harlen looked at the chainmail, lifting the hem of its steel ringed
skirt.  "I believe I can work around that, my mailed maiden." He said.

   "Good." She said, tugging at his belt, and pulling him toward the small
cot.  "Then you have been miscreant in your duties to me.  If you will note
my rather alarmingly ungreen eyes."

   Harlen nodded as she sat upon the bed and pulled her boots off.  She
looked rather different in the armor, he decided, less helpless, more the
warrior.  She scooted up onto the cot and laid back, watching him intently.

   Harlen kicked off his own boots, then took off his pants.  "You may wish
to leave the shirt on, lest you get pinched." Hyandai said.

   He nodded agreement.  She giggled at his already swelling organ.  "Even
in war, there you are." She said.  "You are a lust fey's dream come true."

   Lowering his head to her ankle, Harlen began to kiss his way up her
long, slender leg.  She sighed as he passed her knee, and began up her
thigh.  Her legs moved apart and she felt the chainmail being slid up
against her smooth skin, along with its underlying padded layer.

   A loud groan escaped her lips as his tongue and lips touched her
opening. Her hands gripped the sheets at the intense stimulation and long
absence of it.  "It has been too long." Hyandai said.  "Fifty-nine years of
nothing, and now two weeks is too long."

   Harlen chuckled as he continued lapping at her clitoris and sliding his
tongue into her.  She began to wriggle about, causing the mail to clink and
squeak oddly.

   "We go to war tonight, very likely, and yet, I only wish to have you
inside me." Hyandai said.

   Harlen nodded and rose up from her middle.  "It seems logical to me." He
said.

   She smiled as he moved up her body, but missed his kisses on her torso
that he would have laid down had her chainmail not been present.  She moved
her long legs outward to accommodate his large frame and felt his cock
pressing against her opening.

   A tiny sense of dread was quickly overwhelmed by a greater sense of
anticipation and desire.  "Take me roughly." She said.  "I need to feel
everything."

   Harlen smiled and kissed her lips.  "Very well." He said.

   His thick cock opened her entry then he halted for a moment, gathering
himself.  The next moment, he was fully within her and her breath was
releasing in a loud cry of pain and joy.  He began feeding into her the two
weeks of loneliness and fear and frustration.  His organ pistoning into her
repeatedly, spreading her entry wide and burying itself to the base in her
tight cunt.

   Soon all the pained sounds left her cries, and were replaced by only
pleasure.  Her body had not forgotten her lover, it simply desired a object
reminder of him.  Her face softened as the pleasure built up.

   "I feel like myself for the first time in days." She said, then giggled.
"Now if only I could eat while you do that."

   Harlen smiled broadly.  "I would not complain if you did so." He said.
"Should I fetch something?"

   Hyandai wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him to her.  "I think
you better stay." She said, her breathing growing more labored.  "There is
an event scheduled for you to attend." This last came out rather slurred
and almost as a single word.

   A similar feeling was creeping into Harlen's loins as she felt his
impending climax build.  His back and sides burned from the force he was
pouring into taking Hyandai this time, and she was responding by accepting
every thrust fully, allowing him to batter his way into her small body.

   She cried out again, this time more loudly, and for a long moment.  Her
scream held a note for several heartbeats, then died down, moving through
the tones of her range until she was silent again.

   He could feel her opening contract around his shaft, tightening and then
loosening.  Her own thrusts had ceased as she climaxed.  Now they began
again, with renewed vigor.

   "Time for your release, beloved." She said.  Staring at him with emerald
eyes.

   Her voice had lost all traces of the masculine edge he had noted.  This
was all Hyandai now.  Or perhaps Hyandai plus fey, but there was no more
man there.  This relieved Harlen quite a lot.

   The enthusiastic assistance she loaned to the effort paid off quickly,
as he grunted and his orgasm gripped him.  Plunging into her a last few
strokes, he fell over that precipice and his cock twitched with each jet of
warm semen he spent into her.

   She continued grinding her pelvis against his swollen cock for several
moments, she was encouraging him to keep feeding every drop of his seed
into her.  Her hands were moving over his cheeks, chin, and neck.

   "Beloved, I never wish to be apart from you again." She said.  "It was
too painful, and this too pleasurable." Her voice was tired and gaspy.

   Harlen slid back and his organ slipped from her tight opening, hanging
flaccidly from him as he sat back onto his haunches, still between her
legs.

   "Never more than necessary." Harlen said.

   He crawled up beside her and laid at her side.  She tried to curl up
against him, but the limited mobility offered by the armor prevented a
truly satisfying cuddle.

   She got a rather upset look to her face.  "I regret, lover, that we will
not be allowed to stay in this comfort for long." She said.

   A few minutes passed, then a few more.  And he simply held her curled
form.  She may have even dozed off for a few minutes, but soon was awake.

   "We need to finish preparations." She said.  Her voice once again tinged
with some man's tones.  "This was more than a welcome thing, beloved, but
we can ill afford more." Hyandai sat up and drew on her boots.  Harlen did
the same, crawling out of the bed to slide his pants on.  A few minutes
later, they were back in the command room.

   Ealina stifled a giggle as they entered.  Ceriandel did his level best
to ignore Hyandai's suddenly very green eyes.  He was her brother after
all, and very likely, no man, or even elf would be thought a worthy partner
for his beloved sister.

   "Back to the matters of import." Hyandai said, squeezing Harlen's hand
gently.  She looked down at the model.  "What think you of the defenses?"
She asked all around her.

   A moment passed as Harlen and Ceriandel blinked, but they both started
moving after that moment.  Harlen crouched low over the illusory buildings
and trees, and miniature people, moving about.  It was an exquisite
projection of the village, and he knew that if he looked hard enough, he
would see himself looking down at a smaller model of the model.

   "You have fortified well, for what you had to work with." Harlen said,
eyeing the palisades and trenches before them.  North of the village on the
map, there were many milling figures, three hundred yards or so north, if
the scale was accurate.  "The enemy?" He asked.

   Ceriandel nodded.  "I know little of massed battle, but I know defenders
usually have the advantage." He said.  "The enemy will, even now, be
relying upon their superior troops to win the contest.

   Ealina shook her head.  "It is all very foreign to me, lady." The young
elf said.  "This is why we defer to your judgement in this matter."

   Hyandai nodded.  "Yes, some have been here a day and a half, others have
arrived through the day." She said.

   "Why do they not attack now?" Ceriandel asked.

   Pointing with one finger at a glowing nebulous shape at the edge of the
model's extents, Hyandai said.  "They await one last company." She said. 
"They are coming from that direction, the north west.  They march even now,
and will arrive just after midnight, lest they stop."

   "A large company?" Ceriandel asked.

   Hyandai shrugged.  "Large enough, nearly two hundreds more." She looked
at him.  "Scouts only espied their camp two days ago, just before they all
were recalled and no more went out."

   Ceriandel gasped.  "Nine hundreds then?" He asked.

   She shook her head.  "No.  A thousand." She said, pointing to a knot of
troops south west of the village.  "Those are also theirs.  I assume they
intend them to prevent any escape."

   "Harlen, I apologize." Ceriandel said.  "I may have brought you here to
die."

   Harlen squeezed Hyandai's hand.  "I would rather die beside you than
live without you, as trite as that sounds."

   "It does not sound trite in your voice." Ceriandel said, turning to
Hyandai.  "Give me thirty men and I will neutralize that southern unit as
soon as the battle commences.  The cavalry, they will not be needed
defending the wall."

   Hyandai nodded.  "That may well be a good idea." Her voice subtly
changed.  "An attack would be the last thing they would expect from a
besieged village.  Ealina get him those cavalrymen." Ealina and Ceriandel
left the chamber.

   "Come Harlen." Hyandai said, her voice still rather oddly different from
normal.  "You should be kitted for combat.  She led him down a few ramps,
passing other elves who stared after them for a moment but then moved on,
busy with their own chores.  They came to a heavy door, Hyandai rapped her
knuckles upon it.

   A few moments later, an elderly elf, the first Harlen had seen who
actually looked old, opened the door.  "Athelan, this is my betrothed,
Harlen." Hyandai said.  "He needs gear for this battle, have you any for
one of his stature?"

   The elderly elf looked at him askance.  "A big one, is he not?" He
asked, chuckling and beckoning Harlen in after him.  "Come, Harlen, we
shall see what the armory holds."

   They followed him down several rows of shelves, stacked with various
armor and weapon pieces, sections, and entire sets.

   Finally, he stopped before a small barrel sitting on a shelf.  "This was
found on a Dark Templar several years ago, that several of our rangers
brought down." He said, pulling the lid off the barrel.  He dumped the
contents on the floor.  It was a suit of chainmail, he lifted it from the
mixture of sand and oil with which it had been stored.  "It should fit your
big man well enough." He chuckled, lifting it with effort and handing it
over to Hyandai.  Her arm sagged under the immense weight as she turned and
gave it over to Harlen.

   She handed Harlen the armor.  "We can cut you a saddle blanket for
padding, you are a horse anyways, eh?" The old elf smiled at him.  "Its
good armor, lad, the rangers killed him with a headshot."

   "Very comforting." Harlen said, with a wry smile.  "I'll remember to
keep my head down."

   "You have a sword, I see." Athelan said.  "Perhaps a dagger?" He lifted
a long-bladed dagger from a shelf.  "For your off hand.  You carry a bow,
so I assume a shield is not your desire."

   Harlen nodded and belted the dagger's sheath to his sword belt.  Two
young elves had arrived and were slinging the chainmail against a low
wooden wall, knocking the sand and oil mixture off of it where it collected
in a basin at the base.

   In truth, a saddle blanket was found and a hole cut through for his
head, and then it was trimmed to fit to his sides.  The chainmail was cast
over all, and he was girt with his sword and the dagger, his bow and two
quivers of his own arrows.  He walked out onto the catwalk to Hyandai's
regard as she turned from another aide who had born her a report.

   She smiled broadly upon sighting him.  "You look verily the hero now,
Harlen of Morrovale." She said, walking up to him, her own armor shimmering
like liquid metal over her body.  Harlen chuckled as she hugged herself to
him and he embraced her.  "It makes you even huger." She giggled, grasping
her wrist behind his back.  "I can barely get my arms around you with this
gear on."

   He picked her up and kissed her, lifting her off the floor of the
catwalk.  "I can still reach around you, my lover." He said.  They kissed
this way for a long moment, before an aide coughed an interruption.  Harlen
gently sat Hyandai back upon the ground and moved back a few paces.

   She turned to him.  "Word has finally gotten to the lord and lady."
Hyandai said.  "They wish to speak with us, now." She looked rather
worried, but more annoyed than that.  "Like we have time for this." She
grumbled, again in the oddly different voice.

   They walked down the long stair then across to the throne building.  The
curtains were still fluttering in the night air, and the temperature was
dropping rapidly, Harlen noted as his breath became visible before him.  A
cold, blustery night, perfect for a battle.  He thought.  Just needs to
rain.

   As they walked across the polished floor, the room only dimly lit by a
few torches on the columns, the air of impatience grew in Hyandai's very
footstep, and Harlen began to need to nearly jog to keep pace with her.

   He looked at her face, and saw a set jaw, and eyes turned deepening
green with suppressed anger.

   They approached the two thrones, only two advisors stood by them, one
near to each.  Hyandai began her tirade even before reaching them.  "I know
that he was not supposed to be here." She said.  "But, he is here, and it
is too late to send him away again.  If you wish to haul me before a trial
and try me for disobedience or him for trespass, then do so, after the
battle." Her voice once again had the undertones he had detected before,
masculine and very strong-minded.

   The two nobles blinked a moment.  "Lady Hyandai." Said the lord,
Ircandann.  "If you would but still your tongue a moment."

   She stopped talking, and even stopped preparing to talk, and just stood
there.

   "We were mistaken to send your betrothed away." Ircandann said.  "It
simply caused you distress for little gain.  Such treatment was not always
our way, but I suppose the little thoughts spread by the traitors have
infiltrated even our own very minds.  We doubted the possible loyalty of a
human, when arguing that we should ally with them in the same sentence. 
Such dichotomy would not serve as policy."

   Ircandann nodded toward Harlen.  "You are not only welcome to stay,
Master Harlen, but we are grateful for your strong arm in our hour of
need." He appraised the armor-clad huntsman.  "The armor of war looks
suited to your use." He said, smiling.

   Harlen nodded.  "I suppose humans are made for war." He said.  "Or at
least made capable of it."

   "Please forgive our misgivings, we will not let such doubts cloud our
judgement in the future." Lady Melewen said, her silvern eyes bright in the
dim room.  "Go, make your preparations, and we will make ours.  We will
meet you upon the northern tower."

   Hyandai bowed as low as the armor would allow, and Harlen did likewise.

   "What shall I do?" Harlen asked.  "You are to be commanding from the
tower, and they will be with you, but me?"

   Hyandai smiled at him.  "You are my personal bodyguard." She said. 
"Though I daresay being beside me may not be the safest of places in the
battle." She looked over the palisades as they mounted the steps up a
sturdy wooden tower.  "The traitors will wish me dead, knowing I am the
source of tactical guidance for the villagers."

   "What of the Ehladrel?" Harlen asked.  "Who wields it?"

   She looked back toward the throne room.  "It is there, awaiting our last
desperation." She said.  "We dare not let it fall into their hands,
therefore we can only use it at direst need."

   Harlen shook his head.  "A weapon so powerful that you cannot afford to
field it." She said.  "A dubious usefulness."

   He peered out into the darkness beyond the palisade.  He could barely
make out moving shapes in the deep gloom there.  The enemy had chosen well,
if humans were to be aiding the villagers, it was a moonless night, and the
stars provided scant light through the remaining canopy over the village. A
man would be virtually blind in that dark.

   Harlen took out his spyglass and looked upon the enemy ranks, there were
indeed hundreds of them, many hundreds.  They all wore light gray cloaks,
nearly dragging the ground with their hems, with deep hoods that shadowed
farther their faces.  They looked almost as wraiths in the darkness, the
wind fluttering their long, loose garments in the night.  The glint of
starlight on polished steel was quite evident, though, and the spears and
swords looked almost like a dense bramble of glinting metal.

   Long moments passed as aides and captains came to Hyandai to give word
of the enemies disposition and to ask for commands in response to those
movements.  She soon had the palisades as manned as maybe.  The walls were
topped with narrow scaffolds, upon which stood archers, two hundreds of
them, along with a elf with a spear and shield every third person.  Another
half a hundred were at the base of the wall, ready to ferry off wounded and
bring fresh arrows at need to those on the wall.

   There were no reserves.

   Soon, word was brought that the last regiment of the enemy were moving
up from the left flank.  Two hundred strong, as they had been told. 
Hyandai sighed.  "This is going to be a bloodbath, is it not?" She asked
Harlen.

   Harlen nodded.  "I fear it will be so, my love." He said.

   The defenses erected in the last few days seemed now woefully
inadequate. And the militia pitifully undertrained.  Hyandai was certain
this was her last night in Feldare.  She had spoken to the spirits and
tried to heed their advice.  Now it was come, the last moment.

   Lord Ircandann climbed up to the small command tower and greeted them.
He was now wearing chainmail, similar to Hyandai's, but more ornate and
finely-crafted.  Lady Melewen followed him, also clad in armor, but of
overlapping scales on a leather backing.  Hers had been enameled red, so
that she looked to be wearing a dragon's hide upon her body, a broad-bladed
sword was on her slender hip.

   Hyandai caught the direction of his gaze and whispered.  "She is of a
warrior clan, they are all very skilled, and all wear such armor, see?" She
pointed to the wall, and here and there, among the others in leather and
chain, were such scale-clad warriors, bright red against the natural browns
of the palisades and grays of the other warriors' armors.

   There was now a deathly silence, as people checked their straps and
tightened belts.  Swords were loosened in sheathes, and bow strings were
checked for frays.  Some of the archers were arraying their arrows before
them on the wall, ready for fast reloading.  A few had their heads bowed in
what Harlen realized was Oneian prayer.

   He decided to do the same.  Prayer seemed a good idea at this moment. 
He lowered himself to the floor, upon his knees and bowed his head.  Inside
his mind, he thought of his life and his friends and family.  He thought of
Hyandai most of all.

   An image in his mind flashed of Saint Teargan, the patron of soldiers.
He asked Teargan for his help this night.  Another flash brought Saing
Emoilin, an elven saint, and patron to other elves in need.  He had been a
blade dancer, and a Oneian, his great works throughout Feldare were still
legend.  Harlen asked him to help, too.  Perhaps between the two of them,
there would be the power needed this night to stop the enemy.

   Harlen felt Hyandai's cool hand on his neck, and could almost feel her
trying to pray, as well.  He reached back and touched the slender fingers.

   There was odd movement out in the darkness, and he stood as he dug out
his spyglass.  Waving it over the dark masses of troops out there, he
finally found the source.  It was the final regiment, moving into place
aside the others.  They moved swiftly, and silently, forming up into four
ranks fifty men wide.

   A single elf walked from the main body of the army and headed toward the
regiment, and one elf separated from the regiment and came to meet him. 
Harlen watched as the small figure from the new company clutched her cloak
to her neck as she spoke to the other, the chilling wind whipping the thin
cloth.  The shape of her body gave away her sex.  They spoke for a few
moments, then separated and headed back to their regiments.

   As the female returned to her regiment, he caught a flash of a glow in
her hand as she brought it down from her neck.  Harlen blinked as he looked
again.  She walked up to another elf, and handed it something, something
that glowed with a pale green light.  He seemed to slip it into his cloak
and the light was snuffed.

   He looked over the long ranks of the new regiment, just like the others,
but more possessed of bows.  These were their archers, Harlen decided, and
the reason for their positioning off to the side, opposite another
archer-heavy company.  They needed a clear field of fire at the walls. 
They, too wore the cloaks of light gray, their hems just below the knee,
like a poncho.  The wind caught these garments, and caused the entire
company to flutter, their forms ghostly in the dark distance.

   The sound even reached their own ears, and it was like a sigh from a
grave, the soft rustling of the cloth disquieted the host protecting the
town, and many hands shook around their weapons.

   Again, the world stopped.  It was like Feldare were taking a deep breath
before plunging into a flowing river of lava.  There would be death this
night, and there would be glory, but most of all there would be anger and
fear, in equal measures.

   A voice cried out in the darkness.  And a group of four horsemen
detached from the main mass of the traitor army.  The rode forth toward the
wall.

   "A parley?" Harlen asked.

   Hyandai nodded.  "It would seem." She said.  "Perhaps they realize that
their surrender is their only hope." She smiled at Harlen over her rather
morbid humor.

   The two nobles, Hyandai and Harlen descended the stairs from the
platform and crossed the open space toward the gate.  The gate was opened
and the horsemen dismounted and walked under the heavy oaken beams that
crossed over the two doors of the entrance.

   The apparent leader of the enemy was a large elf, with broad shoulders
and a long mane of white hair, bound in a pony tail.  He stepped forward
from his three companions.

   "Captain Cendiolor." Hyandai whispered to Harlen, naming the elf before
them.  "He used to captain our own guard." Harlen recalled the conversation
on the watch platform many days ago.

   He walked up to within two paces of Hyandai and gave her a curt head
bow. "Lady Hyandai." He said, formally.

   "Captain Cendiolor." She replied.  Her tone icy and dripping venom. 
"This army of traitors is at your command?"

   He nodded.  "They are mine to command, but it is you who betray your
people." He said.  "You would thwart the will of the majority?  Are you so
desirous of your human mate?"

   She shook her head.  "You may have numbers here, but these rabble,"
Hyandai said, waving her hand to encompass the mass of troops looming in
the darkness, "are drawn from all over the land of Windir, and represent a
tiny minority in each community, malcontents." She barked a disdainful
laugh.  "To claim majority because you outnumber a small village is the
height of fallacy."

   He laughed bitterly.  "If you so think." He said.  "I see you did find
human assistance, after all." He said, eyeing Harlen critically.  "Or is
this that man you have been breeding with?" His silvern eyes turned to
Hyandai's green as he spoke.

   She scowled at Cendiolor.  "My personal life is none of your concern,
traitor." She said through clenched teeth.  "I am proud of my betrothal,
and my betrothed."

   "Well, if you could not find better." He said dismissively.  "I suppose
he is adequate, and perhaps more than, in certain areas in which I hear
humans are quite well endowed." He looked down at her.  "It must be a
burden to be backed into a corner by your own face."

   She seethed at him.  "Did you come to parley or simply to insult me?"
She said.  "For if the latter, I have had my fill and may break the rules
of engagement simply to teach you a lesson in civility."

   Cendiolor chuckled.  "I have come to offer you a chance to surrender."
He said.  "Now, I will not be so heartless as to make it unconditional. 
You may all leave, simply walk away and none will molest you." He looked
over the palisades.  "It is the best you can hope for." He added.  He
turned back to look between Hyandai and the two nobles, and did his level
best to ignore the human who loomed over the entire conversation.

   "It may help you to come to a decision to know that your rangers from
the Windy Isles were dealt with." He grinned maliciously.  "Seems our tardy
company there came across their company north of the village." He shook his
head.  "Sad, really, allying yourself with people who cannot even find a
village.  They said they encountered them north away." His hand pointed
northward.  "Really, you should find better folk to associate with." He
concluded, shaking his head mournfully.

   Harlen and Hyandai managed to keep blank faces during this last bit of
monologue.  The lord and lady actually looked crestfallen.  Had Hyandai
withheld the fact that the Windy Islanders were a rumor, manufactured by
her own mind?  He supposed she had.

   "I see." Cendiolor said, noting the expressions on the two nobles with
gleeful eyes.  "You had much hope placed in them." He gloated.  "They will
now not be coming to your succor.  Rest assured, however, their rotting
corpses will nurture the soil well.  Thus Windir grows stronger." He said,
his eyes flashing with a malice not common to elvenkind.

   What is his fey?  Harlen wondered to himself as he regarded the tall,
wide-shouldered elf.  Cendiolor was, like most all elves very attractive,
even beautiful, but the current attitude and cruelty he was displaying made
mockery of that beauty and turned his elegant countenance arrogant.

   "I wish not to treat with you, traitor, to your posting and your
people." Hyandai said.  "This parley is over, go back to your army of
cuthroats and brigands." She spun on her heel and stormed off toward the
command tower.

   "Man of Morrovale." Cendiolor said.  "Is a bit of elven tail worth dying
for?" He asked.  "I really would like to know."

   Harlen stepped forward, causing Cendiolor's escort to reach for their
swords until the former captain held up his hand, and stared evenly at the
much taller man.

   "You're about to die for much less, silver eyes." Harlen growled down at
the elf.  He was larger than almost all elves, Captain Cendiolor was, but
compared to Harlen, he felt suddenly very small, and vulnerable.  "Go back
to your lines, and prepare to face me, you pathetic, weak thing.  I will
carve a path to you through the bodies of your traitorous thugs.  Then I
will kill you."

   The man's hand upon the hilt of the massive broadsword made Cendiolor
nervous, he looked down at it.  It was a large, powerful hand, and the
knuckles showed white.  How much force was needed to snap an elf's neck? 
Could those hands muster such strength?  Very likely.

   Cendiolor swallowed then gave a half-hearted grin.  "Human, even your
pitifully short life will end early." He said.  "And much is the shame.  To
deny poor homely Hyandai her massive organ for a while, before she too
dies, of lonliness."

   Harlen spun about in preparation to walk away, an old trick came to him
from his days in the service of the duke.  He pushed down on his hilt and
lifted the far tip of his sword in doing so.  As he turned the sheathed
point came around and forced Cendiolor to jump back to avoid being struck
in the genitals with the reinforced club.  Some jeers fell upon Cendiolor
from the ranks of the elves upon the palisades.

   The gates began to swing shut as Harlen and the two nobles walked away.
Hyandai was already issuing last minute orders to various captains.  The
parley was forced to retreat as the doors threatened to close upon them.

   They mounted their horses and rode back to the main lines of the enemy.

   Hyandai started to speak as he and the nobles, and their aides came up
the stairs.  "What was he talking about, there was n . . .." She stopped
speaking at a warning glance from Harlen.  He shook his head minutely and
she spoke again.  "No way on Feldare we were accepting those terms." She
concluded the truncated sentence, with a new ending.

   A rider came up to the tower and leaped from the saddle, sprinting up
the stairs.  "Lady Hyandai, the southern force of the enemy is routed, they
flee the field!"

   She smiled at that.  "Very good." Hyandai said.  "Their losses?"

   The rider thought a moment.  "Only five, Warleader.  Seemed they
expected to be shooting at refugees, not facing a cavalry charge, they had
only archers."

   Harlen leaned in close to Hyandai's ear and whispered into her ear a
moment.  Her face broke into a wider smile.

   "Bolster them with the remaining cavalry, and order Ceriandel to bring
them about to attack the enemies right flank." She leaned close to the
rider's ear and whispered.  He nodded and took off down the stairs and
clambered back onto his horse, riding south through the town.

   A few moments later, Harlen heard the cavalry moving around the palisade
to the right of them.  Before they could have heard, however, the enemy
archers began to fall back, and part of the main body of the army move into
their place, spearmen to the fore.  The cavalry never appeared, however,
and simply spun about and retreated back to the south.

   Harlen and Hyandai exchanged a quick look and then looked toward the
nobles, and their aides.

   It was moving now.  The enemy forces began to advance.  The captains
upon the walls called out to the archers, who loaded and readied.  Bows
creaked in the darkness and one sang out in a ranging shot.  It flew out
toward the massed troops, falling short by perhaps fifty paces.  The elves
upon the wall waited for the order to fire.

   Harlen noted that the regiment to the left was moving up unevenly,
hoping it was a mistake they could exploit, but it seemed simply a
confusion on the enemy part, and them being archers, their tight ranks
would matter little.

   Another ranging shot sang out, landing five paces before the foremost
ranks of the army.  The army stopped, with much noise of halting feet. 
This was the last pause, Harlen knew.  He had seen it many times before.

   He pulled out his spyglass and examined the ranks arrayed before them,
now closer and reflecting some of the torchlight from the walls.  His view
passed over mass after mass of spearmen, swordsmen, and archers, and a
tight knot of ehladrim in the center.  There were also figures, mixed among
them, figures quite active, moving their hands in esoteric and mysterious
patterns.  Wizards.

   He kept looking down the massed ranks, more archers, and still more
archers, clutching their smooth, sleek weapons.  The left regiment lacked
discipline, he saw, and they had stopped with their formation actually
almost at a twenty-five degree angle, facing inward toward the main army.
He told Hyandai to have the cavalry move around the south side and assault
those from the left, they would likely break easily and prevent many deaths
if they did so.

   He eyed Hyandai's curving bow, with its ornate scrollwork.  Then he
looked at the wall.  There stood the town's archers, with their ornately
carven bows.

   "Hyandai." Harlen said, his mind racing.  "We need the Ehladrel here,
now."

   She looked at him only a moment before saying.  "I agree." She turned to
Lord Ircandann.  "May I borrow your aides, lord?" She asked.

   The elven lord turned from the sight of the massed troops.  "Yes, of
course." He said, turning to his and the lady's aides.  "Rennalath,
Centhan, the Lady Hyandai has need of your service."

   They both looked at her, awaiting instruction.  "I need the both of you
to go get the Ehladrel from my chambers." She said.

   The two young men nodded and departed at a jog.  "Now, beloved, what is
going on?" She turned and asked Harlen.

   "I believe one of the aides are spying for the traitors." Harlen said.
"When I had you feint the cavalry, their forces responded before they could
have known the cavalry was coming toward them, the palisades were in the
way and they were still too distant to hear."

   Hyandai nodded.  "And we sent them after the Ehladrel why?" She said.

   "Because I need them to not know what I just learned." He replied
turning back to the massed forces before the wall.

   "And what, my dear, have you learned?" The lord and lady were also very
attentive of their conversation.  As was obvious, this was war, and their
position was subordinate to Hyandai's for the duration, and they knew their
place if little else.

   "That you elves have been buying Westron longbows." Harlen said, handing
her the spyglass and aiming it toward the left flanking archers.

   Hyandai.  "That is ridiculous, we have no need to bu . . .." She
stopped. "Spirits save us!" She exclaimed.

   The expressions of confusion upon Lord Ircandann's and Lady Melewen's
faces would have to go unanswered for the moment, though, the attack was
nigh.

   Harlen nodded.  Peering over the railing at a small group of combat
wizards.  "Order one of them to hurl a fireball straight up when the fight
begins." He said.

   Hyandai leaned over the rail and yelled down.  "Yrachas!"

   One of the younger wizards looked up and smiled, waving at Hyandai. 
"Yes, Lady Hyandai?" He said.

   "When the fight begins, you are to send a fireball straight upward, an
exploding one." She said.  "Is that clear?"

   He looked at her a long moment.  "Well, yes, Warleader." He responded.
"It is clear.  It will be done, though I know not why."

   She nodded.  "Good, then prepare yourselves, warlocks, the fight comes
to us!" She cried out as the army before the wall set up a loud cry and
charged.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

   "You are certain that is her desire?" Ceriandel asked as the aide,
Rennalath nodded.

   "Of course, Ehladrim Ceriandel." He said.  "She wishes you to leave the
horse company, and find ten men to watch the eastern quarter."

   The blade dancer nodded.  "Very well." he said.  Dismounting and
gathering up ten nearby militiamen.  "You are with me." He said.  They
followed quietly, but with rather worried eyes.  Ehladrim were expected to
be in the thick of the fight, and to be beside one was to be there, as
well. They were loyal, though, and each privately vowed to do his best.

   The shout of battle's beginning could be heard from the north end of the
village even where they were now.  Ceriandel watched as Rennalath moved off
and up the wide stairs up the Turaorn.