The Bronze Spear: Chapter Two

Chapter Two
Mackkeezers dashed through the wood with arrows ready at their bows. Light green capes flew out behind them. A young man ran with them. He had raven strait hair going behind his shoulders, and he was clothed richly. A stag that they were hunting was darting from the shafts of the sun that came through the forest roof. Then the stag darted into an open plain with tall grass that swayed in the morning wind. The man and the Mackkeezers dashed out of the forest. The man’s arrow went up, string pulled back, ready to shoot the stag, but the arrow never flew. All stopped. The stag went around a mountain that was curving up to them. The stag went into The Moonless Wood. Gayness left them. The man slowly put down his bow.

“Those who go in do not come out,” a Mackkeezer said, under his breath. The pounding of galloping hooves was heard in the distance; then they came crashing through the forest.

“My king Feneanar, “shouted a voice, mingled with a horse’s neigh. Feneanar swerved around, his rich garments swaying.

“The Lord Brozonar bids me tell thee that he needeth speak with thee,” the rider said, dismounting the bay stallion. The horse then walked over to the king; his name was Hawk. The king put the arrow in his quiver and the bow around his broad shoulders. Mounting Hawk, Feneanar gave orders to summon the captains and lords to come to the climbing castle before darkness.

The hooves of the bay crushed leaves and twigs on the forest floor. The dew of the morning was dry, and the sun’s warm glow was on the earth. A rushing brook tumbled through the forest. The stallion followed the river. The reins were pulled to a turning; the horse burst into a tangled part in the forest; the plants grew tall and mingled with them selves. The horse’s hooves mated down the plants, his legs breaking them. Then a plain stretched out, The tall stalks of grass were bending before them. Birds were flying from their hiding. A mountain rose high above them. The horse and rider could see on the other side a tower coming out of the mountain: the highest tower of the Climbing Castle. A silver banner fluttered in the wind: a creature with the head of a eagle, a body of a lion and shoulders with folded wings decorated the banner. In the center was a blue shield with a golden stripe in the middle.

Under the stallion’s hooves, a path went up the mountain. Men on the tower shouted down that the king had returned as their cloaks swayed in the chilled wind.

“Hail the king!” they said as he rode by. The rocky path sailed down the mountain slope. The horse’s neck stretched forward, his dark tail flying out behind him. The thundering waters of a waterfall tumbled down the great mountain into white foam. Then the horse’s hooves touched the green grass, and he ran to the gate of the grey stone wall that enclosed the base of the climbing castle. The gates were sung open and the king rode inside. Awaiting him on a grey stallion was the Lord Brozonar. His brown wavy hair hung to his shoulders. His eyes green; his face was young.

“Come with me,” Feneanar said. Their stallions trotted proudly through the gate. The hands of the lord and the king lessoned their grip on the reins. Then the horses cantered to the rushing falls. Their thundering hooves splashed into the cool water. Tousling his mane, the bay stretched his neck to drink.
Then spoke the king

“A council will be taken tonight when the moon rises to the sky.”

A hawk screeched high in the climbing clouds over mountains cold. Hawk gave an answering cry, his hooves slashed the air.

“To the castle thou go,” said Feneanar, gesturing his arm, his voice argent. “And rest thyself for mindful things. ” Brozonar’s stallion darted away into swaying grass. Then the screeching hawk swooped down as rushes flew from sight.

“Hawk, Hawk. Run now to where the Talyoums soar,” shouted the King. Soon Feneanar’s voice was lost in the sound of the horse’s hooves. The pounding falls and surging waters soon became faraway thunder, swallowed up by distance. A screeching eagle’s cries that were as thunderous as a loin’s roar were heard by both horse and master. High cliffs came rising up from green sloping plains. The Talyoums were on the cliffs. Their massive lion bodies stood on the mountains with their eagle heads searching the land below for any signs of evil. Their beaks screeching their magnificent cry. Suddenly the wind purred down its fury and rocks tumbled to the earth. From the high clouds came souring Talliead, the leader of the Talyoums. His body was huge; his sharp claws were scraping the cool air. The swift wings of Talliead carried him down to the earth, and he stood looking down upon the king.

“Talliaid take some of thy Talyoums to guard the eastern border of the dark land,” Feneanar said, and his horse galloped into the setting sun.