Chapter Sixteen
The Weald
“Switch cloaks with me!” Matclew said. “They’ve seen you in the blue cloak. Maybe I can draw them away.”
Alrhett and Matclew quickly traded cloaks.
“That ramp leads up to the royal palace,” Matclew said, pointing. “There are some stalwart supporters, defying the curfew, waiting for you. Wait until I have drawn them off, before you go.”
“Do not fight them,” Alrhett said. “Just run as fast as you can.”
Matclew nodded and then sprinted away.
“Get her!” A chorus of men cried.
Alrhett turned to see Matclew, in the blue cloak, surrounded by assassins. Their swords plunged into his body again and again.
Alrhett wanted to scream, but her throat was paralyzed with fear. It felt as though her feet wouldn’t move. Then, somehow, she could sense that she was running, but she felt completely numb. Her sense of sound was cushioned and muted. But, her sense of sight and smell became almost too acute.
Down a ramp, she could smell every animal or perfume, which had moved along the path. Every shadow was in sharp definition. She could see the gates of the palace, and several citizens huddled by the entrance.
“Open the doors! Open the doors!” She screamed.
The men rose as if completely befuddled. Then they scrambled to action and opened the massive oak doors. Alrhett could feel the vibrations of the assassins speeding down the wooden ramp right behind her. The men in front of her drew their swords and set themselves.
Alrhett ran through the entrance and could hear, immediately behind her, the clash of sword on sword, the shouts and curses of men fighting and dying. It seemed an eternity as Alrhett waited just inside the gate. Then, a soldier she knew, splattered with blood entered.
“They are all dead, my queen,” he said with exhaustion.
“Bring all the bodies in quickly, and bar the door,” Alrhett said.
Once her instructions were accomplished, messengers were sent to sympathetic households. As they went, the people of Rogar Li seemed to regain their courage, and awoke. Lights were lit, and the citizens began to gather outside the royal palace with riotous murmurs.
Matclew and Drepaw’s bodies were also brought in, with several other assassins they had slain in their attempt to make it to the palace. The outrage of the populace was growing. The assassins were unmasked and Alrhett allowed the citizens to enter and name them, as they filed past.
“Lord Nasinne and two of his vassals!”
“Lord Pidenco, his brother and two of their guards!”
And, many other high officials of Rogar Li were identified as base usurpers who had resorted to murder to further their aims.
An elderly woman entered and fell to her knees. “They should not be lying with these!” She cried.
“Who is this?” Alrhett asked.
“She is the mother of Drepaw and Matclew,” a soldier told her.
“Oh, my dear!” Alrhett exclaimed and ran to her side. She held the woman’s face and cried with her. “Please forgive me! Your sons have shown the greatest of love, not only for me, but for all of Rogar Li and the Weald!”
All were silent with respect.
“These two angels,” Alrhett stroked the hair of Matclew and Drepaw, “gave their very lives for the idea of the just rule of law here in the capitol. Honor their names as you would the great kings of old. Remove their bodies. Clean them, and set them aside, for We have dishonored them by allowing them to lie here with these vermin. If every man or woman would be willing to give all they have, as these two, unto their own lives, to see the safety and stability of our government, our peace, and the happiness of every child here in the Weald, then we would have a heaven here on earth.”
Alrhett sat and cried with Matclew and Drepaw’s mother as their bodies were removed with respect to be cleaned and dressed for their deserved honors.
“Tell me your name,” Alrhett asked.
“I am Meybonne,” she said. “And these,” she indicated two pale faced woman behind her, “were their wives, Prensy, and Kindoll.”
Alrhett felt the blood drain from her face as she beheld the two beautiful, young women who had just lost their noble husbands. Alrhett rose.
“We have been remiss,” she said. “We have left Our country and Our station to save my own life and the lives of my daughter and grandchild. We see now, Our life belongs to you, the people. We will not abandon you, even though my husband and grandson are missing. We will no longer be ruled by fear. I will carry only courage in my heart, and I will give it all to you, the people of the Weald.”
With that, Alrhett fainted. She was carried inside to her bedroom, as the outrage and anger of the people grew.
Alrhett slept all through the night and woke with the first rays of the morning sun. For a forgetful moment she was happy. Then she sat straight upright as the previous night’s infamy rushed into her mind.
“Has there been word of my husband, Yulenth!?” She cried to a guard standing silently in her room.
“He has not been... found,” the guard said, then he excused himself from the room.
Meybonne, Prensy, and Kindoll quietly entered, and helped Alrhett bathe and dress.
“I can never repay what your sons, your husbands, have given me,” Alrhett said to the women.
“You can, by ridding our land of the vipers that run it,” Prensy said.
“It is why they chose to do what they did,” Kindoll added.
“The court has already called for you,” Meybonne said.
“Good,” Alrhett said with determination. “I will begin repaying my debt immediately. Prensy, I need for you to ask the Master of the Library to join us at the court this morning.”
Prensy curtsied and left on her errand.
As Alrhett made her way to the court, a grim phalanx of armed citizens of over a hundred surrounded her on all sides. And she made no effort or speech to calm or control them.
The crowd had grown by three times as they reached the court. All was ominously quiet. Alrhett was admitted, and no attempt was made to keep the citizens, who were silent and fiery eyed, from filling the spectator's stands.
The judges quietly filed into the court room and took their seats at the raised bench.
The Lords of Rogar Li arrived and rudely pushed their way into the better seats in the galleries on either side of the great wooden hall. Some waved at Alrhett with friendliness while others glared with icy stares.
“Order, order,” Summeninquis solemnly intoned as he slowly banged his gavel. “This court is in session. We are here to try former queen Alrhett for the murder of Lord Argotine.”
The great hall was as silent as a tomb.
“Although our previous sessions were fraught with emotionality,” the judge continued, “we will see justice done here, without prejudice or sympathy.”
The judge’s backhanded apology received another chilly silence.
“Very well,” he said. “We will continue with the presentation of evidence. Hmmm. The Glaf isn’t present. Did he not wish to attend?”
“My husband, Yulenth of Glaf, is missing,” was all that Alrhett said.
“I’m very sorry,” Summeninquis said without emotion. “But we must continue without him. His brief and unspecific testimony was entered into the record anyway. Now, if there is no further inquiry-“
“I have several witnesses I wish to examine,” Alrhett interrupted.
“But, I thought,” Summeninquis stammered. “I thought we-“
Summeninquis took in the deadly, frozen faces glaring at him in the galleries.
“Of course,” he backpedaled, “every line of evidence must be followed. Please proceed. But know,” he paused for effect, “that all charges and testimony will be challenged.”
“Thank you,” Alrhett said. “May I please call the Master of the Library.”
A puzzled buzz ran through the crowd.
A bent over, elderly man with
large, white, bushy eyebrows entered weakly clutching Prensy’s arm.
He was led to a chair placed in the center of the hall, facing the judges.
Alrhett rose and walked to him.
“You are the Master of the Library?” Alrhett asked in officious tones.
“Of course you know it’s me, my dear Alrhett,” the Master of the Library said with affection. “Why I haven’t seen you pouring over stories of the heroics of the elder Kings for some time. Where have you been?”
“Please,” Alrhett said with kindness. “We are in court. State your name for the court, please.”
“Oh,” the Master said suddenly straightening up in his chair. Then with a wink he said, “sorry, my queen.” Then he cleared his throat and with a very serious face said, “I am Nostacarr, Master of the Library of the great city Rogar Li, capitol of the Blessed Weald.”
The crushing crowd pleasantly murmured at his patriotism.
“As Master of the Library, Nostacarr, you are responsible for the recording of history, not only of the Weald, but also Wealdland in general?” Alrhett probed.
“Yes, yes,” Nostacarr said. “All history. Why did you know the king of the Madrun Hills was here just over seven days ago? He was begging for help and protection from the Weald. You see, it seems-“
“Please just answer the questions as they are put to you, Master,” Alrhett kindly said to stop the old man from rambling.
“Hmm? Oh. Of course. Sorry,” Nostacarr said, then smiled.
“In that history, Nostacarr, has the royalty or even the Lords of the Weald ever, and I repeat ever, resorted to black magic?”
“Black magic, hmm,” Nostacarr thought. “There have been some accusations which were later discredited.”
“Actual proven instances, please,” Alrhett urged.
“No,” the Master of the Library searched his great intellect. “As, a matter of record, I can state under oath, that there has been no instance of magic used by any wealdkin for centuries.”
“But there is magic in use today?” Alrhett continued.
“Magic?” Nostacarr seemed to perk up. “Oh yes. There’s that unspeakable fellow the messenger guild has been following around.”
“Deifol Hroth?”
“Yes, him,” Nostacarr rubbed his tired old legs. “And the elves...”
“The elves,” Alrhett seemed to hit on a thread she wanted. “Tell us of the elves.”
“Well,” the old man said, “as we know, they are all gone, killed by that miserable garond army. But they definitely used magic on a daily basis.”
“For evil?” Alrhett asked.
“Evil?!” The old man chortled. “An elf could do no evil magic if you held a sword to its throat. It’s not in their nature. Tied too closely to the earth. Black magic is unnatural, unearthly. That’s right.”
“What are some of the good, or earthly magical things you know, for certain, in your records, that the elves could do?” Alrhett examined.
“Well,” Nostacarr rubbed his grizzled face, “we know that they move exceedingly fast. Sometimes faster than the human eye can follow. Don’t know rightly if that’s magic, could just be that they’re fast,” he chuckled. “They have eyesight and hearing better than any human, again that might be a simple physical attribute. I don’t see-“
“Please think,” Alrhett urged.
“Oh, oh,” the old man perked up. “They talk to animals as plain as you or I talk to one another. That must be magical.”
“Animal speak/hear?”
“That’s what it’s called,” Nostacarr said with pleasure. “They have the ability-“
Suddenly, an out of breath young man broke into the courtroom, “The guild, the messenger guild!” He cried.
The whole court was astir.
A lanky, dust covered young man strode into the court.
“If it pleases the court,” the young man bowed, “all the Lords are here, so...”
“If it is urgent news,” Summeninquis boomed, “then out with it.”
“There was a great battle in the Madrun Hills,” the messenger said. “Thousands upon thousands of garonds attacked the town of Plymonley, where every Madronite had gathered. It was certain doom for these humans.”
“And we denied help to their king!” A voice cried from the gallery.
“But,” the messenger held up his hand. “A great victory for Madrun. An archer from Kipleth performed a miracle and slew a great number of the garonds. The garond army returned in defeat to their camp in Harvestley.”
A murmur of panic and worry rippled through the crowd.
“There’s more,” the messenger said, “There’s more!” The crowd quieted. “The general of the garond army, Ravensdred, offers a treaty of peace to the Weald, and a promise to not attack or molest her people, if they but refrain from aiding or interfering with his dispute with the armies of Reia and her allies.”
“Impossible!” A voice cried out.
“We must join Reia!” Another citizen cried.
“No! The Weald for the Weald!” Another voice yelled. Then all was tumult as Summeninquis banged his gavel.
“We rest for today!” Summeninquis hollered above the confusion. “We will continue tomorrow!” And then, the judges filed out of the courtroom.
Ushered safely back to the palace, Alrhett was surrounded on all sides by Lords who now took her side, and begged for, or against, joining the armies at Tyny. Finally she could stand no more and had the room cleared, except for Meybonne, Prensy, and Kindoll.
“Does every session of court end in such confusion?” Alrhett asked Meybonne.
“It seems in these days, confusion is normality,” Meybonne sadly said.
“Stralain, the captain of the army wishes to speak to you,” Prensy said from the front door.
“Present him,” Alrhett said.
Stralain, the captain who led the forces at the siege of the Three Bridges of Rogar Li entered and swept in with a respectful bow. He was tall and muscular. And he led with a daring courage, making him much beloved by the wealdkin. “My queen,” he said, “I have found no trace of Yulenth, I am sad to report.”
“Thank you,” was all that Alrhett quietly said.
“My queen,” Stralain carefully continued with a twinkle in his eye, “if you command the army, we will obey.”
“The bravery and loyalty of the armies of the Weald are beyond measure,” Alrhett kindly said. The captain bowed low and excused himself.
“More and more,” Meybonne softly said, “the wealdkin look to you for leadership.”
“I cannot lead them,” Alrhett said, “until I have completely cleared my name, and wriggled free of the grasp of that judge.” The women agreed with their silence.
The rest of the day was spent admitting Lords, captains, and officials who all tried to win political favor with Alrhett. By the end of the day, she was exhausted, although the capitol still hummed with the frightful news of the looming war.
Late that night Meybonne woke with the sound of Alrhett’s voice. She heard her say, “Good, good, make sure every one of them attends.”
Meybonne entered the chamber to find Alrhett alone, standing in her room.
“Yes?” Alrhett asked.
“I heard voices,” Meybonne said.
“All is well,” Alrhett said. “Return to sleep.”
Meybonne returned to her cot just outside the queen’s chamber, and stared up into the darkness, filled with questions, fearing her queen was losing her sanity.
In the morning, Alrhett was filled with nervous energy. Her new friends noticed and they knew she was worried about her trial. The morning languished into the afternoon without the judges calling for court to begin.
“They are calling for a general gathering,” Kindoll entering said.
“What about my trial?” Alrhett asked.
“There has been no call for the trial to resume,” she answered.
The women went together to a large open area at t
he very bottom of the city. This was where the messenger guild usually delivered news that would be of general interest to every citizen of Rogar Li. The spacious area was surrounded on all sides by massive trees, the very supports of the city. It was dark, as little sunlight got through the houses and halls in the treetops overhead. In the common area, here on the ground, the poor set up humble shops along the edges of the square.
When Alrhett and her friends arrived, the darkened square was already choked with the citizens of Rogar Li. Alrhett recognized Summeninquis and his judges in a reserved space, and every other Lord and official was in attendance.
“This is why court is not in session,” Meybonne said.
“It must be grave news,” Prensy agreed.
A lanky, young man of the messenger guild stood up on a platform so he could be heard and seen by the throng. The mass of people quieted.
“As you all know,” the messenger began, “we have been watching carefully the movements of the garond army in Wealdland.”
“Spying, he means” Kindoll whispered, and was quickly hushed.
“We have reported on the slaughter last year, in Lanis of the elf population, to their very extinction. We have reported on the ruin of both Glafemen and Ethgeow. Just yesterday, the Madronites fended off an advance by the garond army, but all her people have left the Madrun Hills for the western lands. And, you may have heard that an army of all nations of humans is being gathered at Tyny to make war on the garond army being led by a garond called Ravensdred.”
“Dark times,” Alrhett breathed to herself.
“Haerreth, son of Healfdene, king of the Green Hills of Reia, respectfully asks the armies and people of the Weald to join him, and all the humans left in Wealdland, to fight the garond menace.”
A long silence followed.
“A formal request,” Alrhett worriedly whispered to Meybonne, who just shook her head.
“The Weald for the Weald!” A voice cried.
And then a pandemonium of dissent went up on all sides.
The messenger raised his hands to try to quiet the people of Rogar Li, and finally they respected his gesture.
“There is some last, other news from the messenger guild,” the young man said. “Our sources tell us that the garond force in Harvestley has doubled in size the last two days. And that, Deifol Hroth will arrive in Wealdland tonight, to lead his army.”
The news stunned the audience. The people quietly left for their homes with an ominous, worrisome gloom hanging over all the inhabitants of the city.
A soldier respectfully approached Alrhett. “Great Judge Summeninquis wishes to reconvene immediately,” he said.
“Good, tell him I will attend directly,” Alrhett told him.
Once again the great hall of the judges was full of spectators, but a quiet dread hung over the people with the recent, fearful news.
“Court is in session.” Summeninquis banged his gavel. “Do you wish,” he asked Alrhett, “to continue examining the Master of the Library?”
“If it pleases the court,” she answered.
The Master of the Library was seated and Alrhett rose to continue questioning him.
“Nostacarr,” Alrhett said, “we were discussing animal speak/hear.”
“Ah, yes,” the old man scratched his ear. “Animal speak/hear is known to have been a trait of the elves. The elfish people could converse with any animal as easily as you or I speak to one another.”
“Do any humans possess this ability?” She asked.
“There is no record of it,” he answered.
“If an elf and a human were to have a child, might that child have that ability?” Alrhett asked.
“I suppose,” Nostacarr mused.
“Would this be considered a black, or evil magic?” Alrhett asked.
“Oh heavens no!” Nostacarr smiled. “It would be a blessing.”
“Is there any record of an elf and a human becoming husband and wife?” Alrhett asked leaning forward.
“Ah!” Nostacarr’s eyes sparkled. “Now we come to my area of expertise. Yes. In the three hundredth and forty second year of the fourth age, immediately following the Great Elf Human War, Garrethent, the two hundredth and fifty sixth King of the Weald took to wife Whinnappalle, a princess of Lanis. This name and location suggests she was an elf. Many scholars have disputed this. However, the record does not clearly say she was not.”
Then the enormity of the line of questioning dawned on the clever old man.
“You are saying,” Nostacarr, the Master of the Library said, “that Whinnappalle WAS an elf and you possess, through your royal heritage, the power of animal speak/hear.”
The great hall was shocked into silence.
“I wish to call my eye witnesses,” Alrhett cried to Summeninquis.
Then she turned to old Nostacarr. “Thank you,” she quietly said with a smile and a pat on his bony shoulder.
“Open the doors!” Alrhett cried. And on cue, Prensy and Kindoll heaved open the massive doors of the great hall.
In flapped eight, black crows, which then settled, wings beating, all about the witness chair.
“Where is the ninth?” Alrhett asked. “Are you out there?” Alrhett boomed to the open doors. A ninth crow, with embarrassment, hopped into the chamber, squawked apologies and settled with his brethren.
“You were witness to the slaying of the man in the meadow, is that correct?” Alrhett asked the crows, who began all loudly croaking at once.
“Please, please,” Alrhett held up her hands. “One at a time.”
The nine crows then croaked a single caw, one after another to the astonishment of the gathered audience.
“Please speak up if you saw me doing any violence to that man,” Alrhett instructed the black feathered witnesses. The crows continually preened and fidgeted, but none cawed.
“Do you see,” Alrhett swept her hand over the crowd, “here in this room, the one who slew that man, whom we called Lord Argotine?”
The crows began to excitedly caw and croak, flapping and bowing.
“Go to him,” she said. The nine crows flew up with fury and flapped around Lord Stavolebe, who slunk into his seat.
“It was self-defense!” Stavolebe cried swatting at the crows.
“Thank you, no further questions,” Alrhett called to the crows. The large black birds circled the court room, and then sailed out the great doors.
“I wish to examine Lord Stavolebe!” Alrhett cried to Summeninquis.
Stavolebe sat in the witness chair.
“You just said,” Alrhett pressed, “or insinuated, that you killed Lord Argotine in self-defense.”
Stavolebe squirmed and said nothing.
“In your first testimony,” Alrhett continued, “you never said that I slew Argotine, but that you discovered me with a sword in my hand, which was true, was it not?”
“I did not lie,” Stavolebe sunk lower in the witness chair.
“And the robbery,” she went on, “was merely a supposition on your part.”
“Yes,” Stavolebe squeaked.
“I have other witnesses,” Alrhett turned to the judge. “A pack of timber wolves saw what happened. However, they will not come into the city. We must go to them. But,” Alrhett paused to look squarely at Stavolebe, whose sweat was running down his silk blouse, “I cannot be responsible for the wolves behavior if they see Lord Stavolebe, for they abhor murder above all else, and may tear him to pieces.”
“He drew first!” Stavolebe screamed. “He drew his sword, and I defended myself!”
“With ten of your guards nearby,” Alrhett smiled. “Perhaps he drew first, because he saw your treachery in luring him out to the woods to be slaughtered. Perhaps some of your guards will testify against you to save their own necks.”
Stavolebe began to cry into his hands. “I never meant to slay him,” Stavolebe lied.
“Your honor,” Alrhett said, “I ask the charges against me be dismissed.”
T
he court was filled with tension. The sound of the grinding of teeth was almost audible. Summeninquis’ eyes rubbed around the room at the pale, angry faces.
“Charges dismissed,” Summeninquis banged his gavel.
The galleries exploded with joy. The lords and soldiers lifted Alrhett onto their shoulders, as the people cheered. In the tumult, Summeninquis and his cronies once again saw that it was prudent to make an exit, before the crowd turned on them.
“My people,” Alrhett said, “my friends, my kin, if you will have me, I will be your queen once more.” The shouts of approval were deafening. The whole city erupted in a great festival of happiness and joy.
Meybonne caught Alrhett by the shoulder. “Did you really have some wolves out in the Weald to testify for you?”
“Lord Stavolebe believed it,” Alrhett said with a wink.
Feasting, drinking and music rang throughout the towers of Rogar Li, all the rest of the day.
As night fell, a great flash of lightning caught everyone off guard and stilled the festivities.
“What was that?” Meybonne said in fear.
“I think,” Alrhett solemnly said, “the Lord of Lightning has entered Wealdland. Tell the people of the capitol we will have a great, proper feast tomorrow. Tonight I wish to speak to every captain of the army, individually.”
The rest of the night, Alrhett, at the palace, interviewed captains as to their readiness and strength.
The next morning, Rogar Li was readied for an official celebration. Garlands of autumnal flowers and bows of evergreens were hung throughout the city. At the palace, furniture, easily identifiable as royal, suddenly turned up at the front door in the morning.
“Has Lord Stavolebe been found?” Alrhett asked Meybonne.
“All his house is missing,” she replied, “every vassal and servant.”
“We will not let his escape ruin this day,” Alrhett said. The air was filled with the smell of baking. The harvest had been brought in only a month earlier, so savory and sweet breads of all types were readied.
In the late afternoon, a messenger of the guild was admitted. “They have burned the bridge across the Holmwy River at Alfhich,” was all he said.
“Who did? Why?” Alrhett asked.
“It is not known,” the messenger replied. “But, all the people of Alfhich and refugees on the eastern side of the Holmwy are now traveling north to cross at Tyny. But, even there is trouble, for the men of Reia control the bridge and will let no one cross to the west.”
“Why would they do that?” Meybonne asked in wonder.
“The general of Reia, Haerreth, has all his troops crossing from the west to the Eastern Meadowlands,” the messenger replied.
“He means to compel all to fight, if they want to or not,” Alrhett said with a frown.
On the messenger’s heels another appeared. “Great Queen of the Weald,” he said, “Deifol Hroth is in Wealdland and it is believed he is headed for Lanis and the elvish city, Lanis Rhyl Landemiriam. The messenger who was following him was badly burned and died of his injuries moments after he relayed his report.”
“Thank you,” Alrhett said, dismissing the messengers. “I must see all the captains of the military again at once,” Alrhett said to Prensy, who curtsied and then hurried out.
About mid-day, the festivities began in the capitol, with music and dancing. High above, in the palace, Alrhett met with Stralain, and thirty military captains.
“Our choice is clear,” she told them. “We cannot sit by, thinking we are safe and well here in the Weald. The question is, do we pursue Deifol Hroth in Lanis, do we join Haerreth in Tyny, or do we wait to surprise the garond army from behind in the Eastern Meadowland. I am not inclined towards the latter venture, as I believe, from reports, that the garond army is strong enough to fight a flanking army with ease. I think the human armies stand the best chance, united in their strength. Haerreth of Reia may be eager for battle, but I do not think he is so wrong in his course.”
Alrhett paused, then continued, “Also, I do not believe this Ravensdred for one instant, so his offer of peace should be rejected outright, as the lie it most assuredly is.”
The captains each gave their opinions, but no consensus was reached. Alrhett thanked them all, then she prepared to attend the feast.
The ramps and wooden walkways of Rogar Li were jammed with merry, colorfully dressed citizens happy to have their queen once more among them.
The dancing, music, and contests of strength and skill continued into the evening, when Alrhett was to be symbolically recrowned.
As the night darkened, Summeninquis, with a sour face, officiated over the coronation. As he held her crown aloft, the smaller moon moved out of its orbit with a terrifying noise. All the citizens of Rogar Li screamed and fled to their houses. The armies were organized and sentries alerted for any imminent attack. All was quiet the rest of the night.
In the early, dark part of dawn, a soldier pounded at the doors of the palace.
“Come at once!” He cried.
Alrhett and her friends gathered themselves and followed. The soldier led them down to the Bairn River, where in the still bright moonlight of Nunee, the mother moon, near the burnt ruins of the Three Bridges, they could see many hundreds of garonds busily moving about in the darkness of the southern shore. Their cauldrons of fire and weapons of war were being moved about in silence.
“What are they doing?” Alrhett asked Stralain.
“We’re not sure,” he said. “We don’t think they have boats. They can’t swim. They can’t possibly be trying to build a bridge.”
Alrhett turned to the trees at the edge of the Weald. “Hello?” She called. “Is anybody there? I need some help.”
Two, dark brown, night birds swept down from the trees to land on her outstretched hand.
“Please go across the river and tell me what you see,” she told them. “No detail is unimportant.”
The dark birds both nodded their heads and winged away into the night. The stillness of the evening was unnerving. The garonds busied themselves with a quietness that was fearful.
The two birds swept back to Alrhett loudly chirping.
“Are you sure?” She asked. “Thank you, tell all your friends immediately,” she said to the birds. Then she turned to the captain, and said with urgency, “Stralain, everyone must flee Rogar Li at once.”
“But why?” The captain asked.
Before she could answer, hundreds upon hundreds of flaming arrows spurted across the still black, dawn sky, from the southern shore, into the dry, dry trees of the Weald.