Ambushed

(prequels: The Southern Library and A Bargain for Freedom)

Kyranduíl stepped softly forward, each footfall the embodiment of precision. He kept his movements to the minimum, for he knew that the more movement he made the more likely he was to be spotted. Eleven elven guards did the same slightly behind him, spread out like a fan to avoid bunching up in one area.

It had been nearly a week since Raedynth, the lord of the Southern Kingdom of Rynvalia, had escaped. Kyranduíl was furious upon having discovered the elf lord had vanished from Mithvärir, the capital of Kryduith. After that Kyranduíl planned to leave ten elves at Brathvynâ to keep watch on all the entrances and exits carefully. Though many argued with him, claiming the venture was too dangerous, the lord insisted on leading the elves there himself. He was still fuming at Raedynth's escape.

Ahead of them Brathvynâ, Rynvalia's capital, loomed out of the darkness like a solemn giant, holding its breath in the early predawn hours. There were only a few small lights lit in the city.

Kyranduíl stopped and the elves halted behind him. A moment later they shuffled closer to him to hear his whispered commands.

“Daevrinth,” Kyranduíl hissed.

“Yes, my lord?” came the faint whisper from Kyranduíl's right.

“Do you have the homing pigeons?”

“Yes, my lord,” Daevrinth replied. “They are ready to send whenever needs shall call.”

“Good. Now, all of you know your stations. Hurry there, but do not, by all and any means, get caught. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my lord.” The whispers filtered back from multiple directions.

“Taliànwen, come with me,” Kyranduíl murmured. Turning his attention back to the rest of the elves, “Are all of you ready, then?”

After confirmation from all eleven elves, Kyranduíl said softly in Elvish, “May good fortune guide you and the stars safeguard you. Farewell, my friends.” Then he slid away into the shadows with Taliànwen. He could just barely make out the other elves, dressed in dark gray-green cloaks, as they stealthily dispersed through the woods.

A safe distance away from Brathvynâ, Kyranduíl straightened and threw back the hood of his dark, forest gray-green cloak. Taliànwen materialized beside him, her own hood still shadowing her face.

“Are we to head back to Mithvärir, my lord?” she asked as they set a quick pace towards where they had left their horses.

“No,” Kyranduíl answered, “we are going to find the library.”

“Library, my lord?” Kyranduíl could hear the confusion in her voice.

“I shall tell you on the way.”

Ten minutes later found them arriving at a small clearing illuminated by shafts of silver moonlight. Thirteen elven horses awaited them. As the two elves approached a lithe, shadowy figure vaulted down from one of the trees. The figure raised an elven longbow and aimed the arrow she had nocked.

“Who goes?” she queried, her challenge bold and authoritative.

“Lord Kyranduíl of Kryduith and Taliànwen,” Kyranduíl replied. “Lower your bow, Alinwian. All is well.”

The elf did so and strode forward. She slung her bow over her shoulder and tucked the arrow into her quiver. Alinwian was not a warrior; rather, she bred and trained the finest elven horses. She worked with them, and understood them, like no other. But, like most elves, she was adept with a bow and made an ideal guard to watch over the horses.

“Ready to head back to Mithvärir, my lord?” she asked.

“No, I have business I must take care of.”

In the faint moonlight, Kyranduíl could see concern creasing Alinwian's face. “Will you go alone?”

“Taliànwen shall accompany me. I would not have ill fate befall me should I dare to go alone. Two is oft safer than one.”

“Shall I wait here for you, my lord?” Alinwian questioned.

“Yes, but should danger present itself return immediately to Mithvärir. The guards I left at Brathvynâ know they are not to count on you being here. Taliànwen and I shall take our horses.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Alinwian said. She stood back. Kyranduíl and Taliànwen hurried forward. Kyranduíl's mount was a tall, buckskin mare with black legs, mane, and tail. She was a fine horse, bred for speed, stamina, and intelligence. Taliànwen rode a shorter stallion with a coat like polished moonlight.

Kyranduíl swung up into the saddle and urged Falthra, his mare, forward. He raised his hand in a farewell to Alinwian, then trotted off into the forest, Taliànwen on Velthien behind him.

He easily located the road he had first traveled on to Brathvynâ weeks ago that fateful day. From there they cantered along it until he found the place he and his guards had been attacked. He halted Falthra and heard Taliànwen do the same on Velthien.

There was no sign now of the ambush, besides a few scuffs in the dirt and a lonely arrow lodged in a tree trunk. In the gray predawn light, the monolithic trees had lost much of their magnificence; now they stood as shadowed guards, silent and secretive.

It took but a moment for Kyranduíl to recall the direction he had fled.

“This way,” he called and urged Falthra off the trail and into the black gloom.

The hours passed slowly as Kyranduíl and Taliànwen searched for the hidden library. As they scoured the forest for it, Kyranduíl explained to Taliànwen what had happened the day he was attacked and how he had found the library—and also what was in it.

Many times they were forced to return to the road, fearing they had strayed too far off course. The sun had risen long ago and it was high in the sky. Finally, they found it.

The two elves tied their mounts to a nearby tree. Taliànwen unslung her bow and nocked an arrow. Her black hair was tied out of her angular face and her almond-shaped green eyes were hard and determined. Kyranduíl drew his sword, the sound of steel on steel making a sharp, whistling zzzing as he pulled it free.

Together, the two advanced towards the library. It looked unchanged since he had last been there. The massive pine trees thickened together to form an asymmetrical building. Trees covered in flowering ivy grew into the walls. A tiled stone path faded out of the ground and led to the tall, narrow double doors that stood as the only exit and entrance to the building.

“I'll open the door and you enter first,” Kyranduíl said. “Sweep the library with your bow. I will enter after you. Be prepared. Raedynth would have surely posted guards now that he knows I have been here.”

Taliànwen acknowledged him with a brief nod. She held her longbow at the ready while Kyranduíl positioned himself at the door, sword held loosely in his hand. His eyes met Taliànwen's. He nodded. She nodded.

Kyranduíl slammed the door open and Taliànwen vaulted through. Kyranduíl heard shouts of surprise and stepped in swiftly behind her. There were three elves, playing cards at a table. Two of them were armored. One of them had taken his breastplate off, and all had their gilded helmets resting on another table. While their obvious lack of discipline helped him, Kyranduíl felt a distinct feeling of contempt for those who did not take their jobs seriously.

“Drop your cards and put your hands upon your heads!” Kyranduíl commanded, feeling slightly ridiculous at saying cards instead of weapons. The elves complied, though they were careful to put their cards facedown on the table.

“Guards,” Kyranduíl snarled, advancing upon them. “Should your master see you now, I would hate to see what he would do to you.” He heard a brief clatter behind him but ignored it.

The first warning sign that made Kyranduíl pause was the number of helmets on the table next to the one where the elves were situated. Seven helmets. Three guards. Kyranduíl whirled around his heart racing. Taliànwen was standing in the doorway. A sword was struck through her gut.

“Taliànwen!” Kyranduíl bellowed. He lunged forward, hate for whoever had done it and grief should she die raging through his eyes. Raedynth stepped out smoothly from behind her.

“You see, Kyranduíl,” Raedynth said, jerking his sword free of Taliànwen's body, which collapsed limply to the ground with a sickening thud, “you are doomed to failure. How can you succeed when you cannot win a single battle? You could not keep me hostage and you cannot even protect those you love. Your life is as good as finished now.” He paced slowly forward and three more armed elves with sneers on their faces entered.

Kyranduíl glanced from Raedynth to Taliànwen's still body. His heart lurched. No. She isn't dead, he thought, hoping desperately it was true. This isn't as bad as it looks. Alinwian isn't far—neither are our steeds. If I can only hold Raedynth and his men at bay for a few seconds, we can escape. She isn't dead.

“Drop your sword, Kyranduíl,” Raedynth continued sounding immensely bored. “Perhaps you may live if you drop it.” Realizing he had no choice, Kyranduíl reluctantly set his sword on the polished floor. Kyranduíl heard chairs scraping the floor. A moment later ropes were tied around his arms and chest. He was dragged to the bookshelves and propped up into a sitting position there.

“I have friends who know where I am,” Kyranduíl called to Raedynth, who was watching with cold eyes. It wasn't exactly true, but Kyranduíl hoped—well, he wasn't entirely sure what he was hoping. Perhaps if Raedynth felt threatened he would leave fewer guards inside the library.

“Do you, now?” Raedynth looked amused. He snapped his fingers briskly and said, turning towards the door, “Bring them!”

More elves bearing Raedynth's insignia entered. Kyranduíl's heart sank. Five of his ten elven guards were brought in, bound tightly.

“Unfortunately,” Raedynth said, inspecting his fingernails, “not all of your guards were subdued like these five.” He gestured at them. “Some, sadly, we were forced to kill.” He gazed at Kyranduíl with piercing eyes. “Like your warrior friend here.” He pointed a crooked finger at Taliànwen's body.

“You monster!” Kyranduíl screeched, fighting madly against his bonds.

“This is what comes of messing with me, Lord Kyranduíl.” He said the name with a voice dripping with ugly sarcasm.

“You are a murderer,” Kyranduíl growled through clenched teeth, trying to calm himself.

“Perhaps,” Raedynth said, heading towards the door. “But that won't matter once I'm king of the world, now, will it?” He left, slamming the doors behind him. The remaining guards brought Kyranduíl's elves to where the lord was trussed up. They returned to their card game.

“What do we do, my lord?” asked one of the elves. Kieryth, Kyranduíl remembered his name was. He was a younger guard, new to the job. Kyranduíl tasted a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought that now the young elf would never have a chance to live his life. No, it isn't that bad, he told himself, knowing full well that it was.

“I'm not sure,” Kyranduíl admitted. “But never fear—our situation is not as bad as it appears.” He glanced over at the still form of Taliànwen. Was that movement? Was she still breathing? Kyranduíl could not tell.

“Do we know if any of the others escaped Raedynth?” another elf, Vylthrian, asked.

“Most likely someone would have,” Kyranduíl replied, knowing that if someone had betrayed them to Raedynth—which, he reasoned, was most likely—none of them would have survived the mad elf lord. They were silent for a moment. As each second ticked by Kyranduíl felt his hope ebbing and dying, though he tried to tell himself otherwise.

“Lord…” Vylthrian began, looking at the floor. He hesitated.

“Yes, Vylthrian?” Kyranduíl asked gently.

The elf looked up to meet the lord's noble eyes. “I have a family… if I do not make it out…” He dragged in a deep breath. “Take care of them. Please.”

“If ever you do not return, take heart knowing that I would treat them as my own,” Kyranduíl promised. “But we have not need of such talk. We shall all make it out.”

“Alinwian is out there still, is she not?” another elf asked suddenly. “Perhaps she may help us.”

“Perhaps…” Kyranduíl sighed.

“Lord,” came an urgent whisper suddenly.

“Yes, Kieryth?” Kyranduíl glanced over at the young elf. His jaw dropped. Kieryth had worked his way free of his bonds.

“How did you…?” Kyranduíl was speechless. Here he was, moaning in despair, and this young guard actually escaped! Not fully, he didn't, Kyranduíl reminded himself.

“Never mind that now,” Kieryth murmured, quickly freeing the rest. Kyranduíl glanced hurriedly at Raedynth's elves. They were talking animatedly and busy with their cards.

“Most of Raedynth's guards left with him,” Kyranduíl hissed. “We outnumber them. If we can surprise them, we might have a chance. Hurry!”

It took a few moments to subdue the guards and tie them to their chairs.

“Lousy lot,” Kyranduíl huffed. Then he dashed over to Taliànwen. She's breathing! Taliànwen was breathing, but it was shallow and labored and her face was perilously pale. She had lost a lot of blood. Kyranduíl took off Taliànwen's cloak and tore it into strips, quickly binding it about the elf warrior's torso, hiding the wound.

“Lord, what should we do?” Vylthrian asked. His tone was full of urgency. Kyranduíl hesitated, torn between duty and Taliànwen. He stood, picking Taliànwen up gently as he did so.

“I will ride with Taliànwen back to Alinwian and the horses. Kieryth, Carialwyn, you ride Taliànwen's stallion. The rest of you, run like the winter gale's wind behind us.”

It did not take long to find the road. From there it was a simple matter of reaching Alinwian and the horses.

Alinwian was waiting patiently as they rode frantically into the clearing.

“What happened?” she asked, hurrying to take Taliànwen from Kyranduíl.

“Raedynth was waiting for us,” Kyranduíl said shortly. He dismounted Falthra quickly. Turning to Carialwyn the lord said, “I would have you take Taliànwen back to Mithvärir. Ride quickly without stopping. Once there send Captain Silthinael with reinforcements.”

“How many, my lord?” Carialwyn was already moving towards her mare. She mounted quickly and Alinwian handed Taliànwen to her.

“Many. We must stop Raedynth at all costs. And remember, we may well not be here when you return. Bear that in mind and proceed with the utmost caution.”

“Understood, my lord.” Carialwyn dipped her head. She cantered off and was soon lost to view. Kyranduíl began pacing, trying to decide what to do next. Surely Raedynth would be at Brathvynâ by now—he couldn't stop the elf lord there. Without reinforcements, Kyranduíl couldn't hope to breach the city either—and Kyranduíl couldn't wait for reinforcements. It would be hours before Carialwyn reached Mithvärir, then another few hours before Silthinael would be able to gather reinforcements, and then more time to return. So no, they couldn't wait.

It didn't take long for the rest of the elves to arrive. Kyranduíl made a quick count and was surprised to find four—he had left three on foot. The fourth was held tightly by his arms.

“Who is this?” Kyranduíl asked, approaching. It took a moment for the elves to catch their breath, but, when they did, one replied, “He, one of Raedynth's, was following us.” The elf, Lorieynth, scowled as he spoke.

“This will slow us,” Kyranduíl snarled.

“Perhaps we kill him,” suggested Lorieynth. “It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth to kill one who is unarmed, but mayhap we cannot avoid it.”

“Wait!” cried Raedynth's elf.

“What do you want, elf?” growled Kyranduíl. “Who are you?”

“I am Captain Hethrial, and I may be of some service to you.”

“How? If I find you are wasting my time, I will stick my blade through your gut as the backstabbing Raedynth did to Taliànwen.”

Hethrial looked taken aback by Kyranduíl forcefulness.

“There's a passage, beneath Brathvynâ, that only a few know about. I discovered it by accident once and told Lord Raedynth. He already knew and made me promise never to tell a soul.”

“It seems you've broken your word,” Kyranduíl noted.

Hethrial hung his head and did not reply.

“But no matter. You are with us now. Tell me: where is the passage, how many guard it, if any, where does it lead, and is it possible to thwart Raedynth's plans by using it?”

“The first I will have to show you,” Hethrial answered. “As for your second question—none. Raedynth does not trust the knowledge of the tunnel to anyone but a very few select people. It splits: one leads into Raedynth's private chambers, the second to the cellars, and a third to the south tower. And the last, I cannot say. Yes, you can gain access to the palace at Brathvynâ by using it. How you go about using it to conquer Raedynth is all on you—not the passage and I.”

“Then take us there immediately,” Kyranduíl commanded. “And if I find you speak not the truth, then you would do well to remember my threat.”

Hethrial nodded.

“Mount up!” Kyranduíl called, hurrying back to Falthra. “Lorieynth, put Hethrial on the slowest horse and bind his hands to the saddle's horn. Keep hold of the reins and make sure he does not escape.”

“Yes, my lord,” Lorieynth replied, bowing his head. A few moments later all were mounted and prepared to leave.

“Shall I stay with the horses, my lord?” Alinwian queried.

“No,” answered Kyranduíl, “come with us. Loose the horses; they will return home.”

Alinwian nodded. She wrote a quick message on a saddle in Elvish telling those at Mithvärir not to worry at the return of the riderless horses and sent the horses away, heading north towards Mithvärir.

As the last of the horses disappeared into the woods Kyranduíl spun Falthra around and galloped off into the forest, the others behind. Lorieynth, along with Hethrial—who was bound securely to the saddle—rode near Kyranduíl. Hethrial gave directions as they sped towards Brathvynâ.