The Archer From Kipleth (Book 2) Read Free

pace. Although outnumbered three to one, Arnwylf and his human army put such fear into Ravensdred’s garonds, they refuse to move from the ruins of the ancient fortress.”
    “The boy,” Caerlund’s voice caught, “the boy is consumed with hatred and pain...”
    The three stared into the small cooking fire, remembering the frightened boy rescued from Bittel just over a year ago.
    “Well,” the Archer finally said, “our Arnwylf is doing a fine job of keeping Ravensdred from rejoining his master, Deifol Hroth, here in Lanis.”
    “I don’t know,” the elf mused. “Deifol Hroth is so powerful. I don’t know... Something inside tells me He is arraigning things, like the player of a game, getting His pieces in just the right positions for a winning move.”
    “I hear they are building a new citadel for the Dark Lord, here in Wealdland, near the Burnie river” Caerlund mused.
    “Just off the River Syrenf,” the Archer nodded. “We have also discovered some garonds leaving the garrison of the city with bricks in their packs, elvish bricks.”
    All were respectfully silent for the elf.
    “Have you seen the city?” Caerlund gently asked.
    “We can’t get close enough,” the Archer said. “It’s only over that rise, and then another ridge.”
    The young soldiers of the camp began to clean up their mess equipment.
    “There’s one other thing,” Caerlund said picking his teeth. “A red sail has been seen daily in the Bight of Lanis.”
    “A ship?” The Archer exclaimed. “But the garonds still have access to Wealdland through Byland.”
    “The garonds no longer hold Byland, Thank Eann,” Caerlund grunted.
    “The garonds do not sail,” the elf said. “When I was very young, corsairs from the south would sail to Lanis for trade. I recall their sails were red.”
    “Pirates?” Caerlund said with a frown.
    “Though coarse men, they were not plunderers as I remember, but it has been centuries,” Iounelle said. “I was but a child”
    Derragen and Caerlund smiled to each other to think of the elf as a child at a hundred years old.
    The elf suddenly shot to her feet.
    “Alarm! Alarm!” She cried in a voice that was unnaturally loud.
    Derragen could feel a rumbling as if the earth were quaking. “It’s the whole garond army,” he whispered to himself in horror. “To arms! To arms!” He cried. “The first patrol was a feint!”
    The rumbling became a thundering, as several thousand garonds, half on horseback, charged the main road out of Lanis, dragging the slaughtered bodies of the poor sentries, Akden and Nolebe.
    “Get our horses!” The Archer commanded.
    Several Sons of Yenolah knew precisely what to do. Instead attempting to mount their horses, they drove them into the oncoming garond army. The human defenders took a terrible toll on the charging garond regiment, as the human archers were well trained. Garond foot soldiers and horses alike were peppered with volley after volley of expertly aimed arrows. With the stampede of the countering horses, the garond rush came to a bloody, confusing halt. The garond horses reared and turned, crushing several of their own soldiers.
    “Attack!” The elf cried. And the Sons of Yenolah, and the Children of Lanis surged forward with an emotional ferocity that initially pushed the garond army back, even though the garonds outnumbered the humans three to one.
    “With me!” Caerlund cried to his madronite warriors. And they ran around the crush of garond soldiers to block their flank and attack from the rear.
    The Sons of Yenolah skewered garond after garond with deadly accuracy, focusing on the garonds on horseback. Once their arrows were spent, the grim faced humans came on with sword and spear with a bloody fierceness.
    The Children of Lanis worked as a well-orchestrated team, centered near the elf. Fighting side by side, the Children of Lanis made sure no garond would face a single human.
    “Iounelle!” Derragen called to the elf, as an anomaly