The Arrowstone

Chapter 21 - The Sacred Arc

CHAPTER 21

THE SACRED ARC

Further up the beleaguered hills came the hosts of the enemy. The Gnomes stood steadfast, their weapons grasped tight. No longer did their dented armour shine in the morning light. It was dull with the friction of war, and stained with blood and dirt. One slight advantage the Gnomes still retained; they stood on higher ground. But they were outmatched in numbers maybe four to one, and the enemy knew it. How long would they be capable of withstanding this powerful onset, before all was over and lost?

Such thoughts tormented Tellom as he stood, ready to hold his ground, sword held before him. Rushing through his mind came confused images of Gem and the Company. Pictures of Ellerol and Anaroth flashed before him, and then, as if burning in his memory, he saw the Arrowstone, consumed in a white flame. Suddenly he felt a breeze pass across his face. The wind had swung around to the West and with it came a feeling of hope.

Tellom looked down to the enemy. They were almost upon the Gnomes, and now their war chants were deafening, filling the hills with a cacophony of death. On the tumbled banks the armies met, and up from the enemy went a great cry as they engulfed the Gnomes. Yet even as they did so, many of their torches were extinguished by the strengthening wind that swept across the hills towards Lantimar, blowing up great clouds of dust. Now over the din came a new sound, the tone of a bugle keen and clear. With a gasp Tellom turned to the crown of the hills behind. There he saw appear a Gnome; a Gnome whose face he thought he knew, as if half-remembered from some dream. The memory was not long in coming.

'Tenmil!' he cried. Over the hill came Tenmil of Fandenor, and behind him many others on horseback, who were seated before much taller riders. These Gnomes, facing the battle, jumped from the steeds and with many a shout ran to the aid of their flagging comrades. But Tenmil remained, a silhouette against the grey sky beyond. All around him the riders assembled, their ranks growing by the second, stretching across the hilltops. Raising his arms, he held forth a huge semi-circular crystal, and it shone in a brilliance of colours, dazzling all who beheld it. Now the enemy wavered, facing this new foe.

'I have come on the wings of the west wind!' cried Tenmil, and before him the enemy hesitated, bewildered by this light that hurt their eyes. 'Behold the Sacred Arc and despair! May the light of the Deiarth burn and crush you, servants of Kondahlrod!' Again he held the crystal aloft, and from its facets soared a multitude of rays. Shrieking and screeching, the Krahls and Nulgs now covered their eyes in a confusion of agony. The hills were crowned with a splendour of light, and three thousand mounted horses. Now the Gnomes shouted in wonder as they drove against the enemy with newfound vigour. Tellom looked on spellbound as the enemy seemed to lose its will and reasoning, running this way and that from its attackers, screaming and spluttering in terror at this unexpected onslaught.

'With the Embardow of Nolembar  I come to claim back the land of the Gnomes!' cried Tenmil as the radiance of the Arc poured forth. 'Levendill for the Gnomes and Embardow!' And from the hilltops the Embardow charged, sending a shower of arrows over the heads of the Gnomes and into the enemy. With strength and speed they rode, cutting down the Krahl warriors and hurling them into the vales. Now fear seized the enemy, and with uncontrolled madness they turned on one another in their desperate attempts to escape this onslaught, and the perilous light that burned their eyes. Scratching at each other's faces,  biting  and  stabbing and  hacking  with spears,  they fled  in all directions. Some fell screaming into chasms, some were trampled down by the horses of the Embardow, others were ripped apart by swords and arrows. In great hordes they stumbled wildly from the hills and onto the plains. But the Gnomes and the Embardow were ever on their heels' rounding them up like cattle and slaying them in their masses until the stench of Krahl-blood was thick in the air, and the ground a carpet of bodies. Always the light of the Sacred Arc was about them as they fled, until they lurched writhing under the hooves of Nolembarian steeds, wailing as death blotted out their fever. Joy and wonder surged through the Gnomes like fire, as they saw the Embardow chase the last trailing groups of Nulgs and Krahls searching in vain for refuge from the attack. Those who scattered and made flight were swiftly followed up and slain as they ran, until by afternoon no Krahl or Nulg remained standing. Some found their death at the gates of the city, or in the lower passes of the mountains, but none escaped. Those who had remained inside Lantimar were soon routed out by the Embardow, and their bodies were hurled from the city walls into great heaps outside the gates.