Flare in the Darkness: Holwena Talnrë of Rothalon

Chapter Six: The Army

Three days they traveled under the scorching sun of summer, and on the fourth, as they approached the army, clouds gathered and poured angry torrents down; thunder smashed like falling cities and lightning blazed, clawed hands of ugthoda ripping across the sky.

Holwena rode into the encampment, Galdeol at her side. Cloaked as they were, no-one took notice of them, and they passed among the men, and Holwena began to truly understand what Galdeol had meant when he said it was a 'broken army'. A weak knot far to the south with a few tents and lords of rank clustered together was all that remained of the united force of Rothalon; as they rode further, soldiers straggled out for miles with no line or remnant of order. Some lay in the muddy grass of the plain, sleeping or too wounded to walk further; others walked stumblingly southwards with dispirited step, their eyes dull, or else filled with fear.

Holwena turned to Lord Galdeol, her face filled with horror. "They are not an army, they are not even a rabble. They are nothing!"

"Aye," Galdeol answered, looking at the shadows with pity. "There is nothing to hold them together, Talnrë."

Holwena gazed out on the grey, mindless skeleton of Rothalon, daunted by the incomprehensible task set before her. For seconds stretching out she sat like a statue, the rain dripping upon her hood and over her cheeks like tears.

I would carve her to stand like that forever, thought Lord Galdeol as he watched her. A beacon of compassion and strength.

Holwena wheeled her mount to face him, her chin set like hard stone. "Call the captains together and send out criers through the army to gather to me."

They waited, and the message came back: "The army will not come."

"They will come to me," said Holwena fiercely. She kicked her heels into the mare under her, and cantered away into the trickling current of men.

"Men of Rothalon!" she shouted, her low voice rising to a clear compelling call. "Where is your hope? Where is your courage? You think you have lost it with your king, and your king's son. You think you are alone and without help."

Men looked up, a shade of curiosity stirring in some faces, some others showing uncertain recognition of the girl who sat mounted among them.

Holwena looked on them, directly into their eyes. "But I tell you you are not alone. I am here, to command you – I, Holwena, daughter of Haldorin King. You have a leader, and I bid you face your fear, and put it aside!"

They were gathering around her, slowly. She urged her horse on, down the wretched stream. "I bid you stand and fight, fight for your mothers and your children, fight for the city that lies before you, fight for the light of Rothalon, that it may not die. I bid you follow your leaders, turn and face the enemy. Drive them back, that they may not touch the soil of Rothalon while we her people draw breath!"

"Holwena, Talnrë Rothalon!" someone cried faintly from among the crowd. And suddenly it was on all their lips. "Holwena, Talnrë Rothalon!" they shouted, and again, "Holwena, Talnrë Rothalon!"

Down that long retreat it sounded, and men heard the cry and understood, and heart flooded back into the hearts of them one by one. And in the center of the clamour sat a lone girl, mounted on a brown mare; and water ran over her cheeks, but it was not rain this time.

At last, she lifted her hand for silence. "My people," she said softly, when all was quiet, "men of Rothalon: turn about now. Fight the ugthoda and do not let them drive us back again. Follow your captains now, to victory. You are warriors! Remember it again."

She drew back and gave way to the approaching general. He put a horn to his mouth and sounded it sharply, calling in a stern voice, "To war!"

"To war!" answered the men, and there was a great ringing as all the swords were drawn. Like a river splitting for a rock they parted to let the general gallop through to the rear of their ranks, which had become the head. And Holwena followed, and as she rode slowly by every knee bent to her.

On a ridge sloping down to a vast flatland below they met the ugthoda.

~

"Risbrek." Madiz seized the arm of his lieutenant as he passed by. "What is amiss in the front? Why is there commotion?"

"Madiz, hranehka." The ugoth bowed. "The Rothalonan-kind have turned back against us, and are sweeping up against our ranks in a charge."

"Why?" Madiz hissed in anger. "We had broken their spirit, they ran before us like cattle."

"There is one who sits before them, hranehka, a little gri-moz with the face of Haldorin King."

A glottal sound of doubt and fury escaped Madiz, and changing to vulture-form he winged over the mass of ugthoda and towards the forefront and the ridge they were attempting to ascend.

The Rothalonans were piercing into the ugthoda like an arrow into flesh, indomitable and unstoppable. With a ferocious speed they moved, never letting back the advantage of surprise that they had gained. And on the height of the ridge, a grey-haired man beside her, sat a girl, slight and dark-haired, gems glittering around her brow, her face set with the resolute fortitude of Rothalon's kings. The banner of the sun and mountains whipped out beside her, and a light glanced suddenly through a growing rip in the clouds to gleam upon the golden emblem.

Madiz whirled about, flying swiftly back to Risbrek. "It is true," he said venomously, landing in his man-form again. "When the ghinik-moz comes again, send him to me. Let him explain this to us."

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hranehka: Lord, General {ugthoda language}