“S-Sure, I will comply.” Anvalth was getting rather tense because of Silhelm’s angered tone.
“And about my master; you are getting too familiar with her. For a mere human mortal, I expect you treat her as your mentor in magic and nothing more. And refrain from calling her princess, it bothers her the most.”
“Why is that? It’s a beautiful rank fit for a beautiful…” Anvalth coughed, realizing he might anger him more if he continued his sentence. “Fit for her.”
“She hates to be reminded of her people; those, filthy miserable traitors. Had I been free to do whatever I wished, I would’ve gone and slaughtered every single one of them who plotted to throw her in exile.” The fierceness in his voice terrified Anvalth, sending a cold chill down his spine.
“But why was she exiled from her home?”
“At the time, she was seen as betrayer of her kingdom for allying herself with a human and spending more time outside of the kingdom than inside. I know not much of her mentor, but she was a human, the most powerful of mages. Word says she still lives, somewhere hidden in seclusion.”
“That is the sole reason? That’s outright ignorance…” Anvalth shook his head, remembering how he was shunned when he first entered Élerion’s camp.
“At the time, elves regarded the other races as inferior and stupid, pointless beings to be precise. That is why it was unacceptable for someone of her stature to be taught by a lowly human, they said.” It was obvious Silhelm wasn’t holding back from using such strong words. “And look where these filthy mongrels are now, prostrating themselves in front of a human warrior who got so lucky to be in Tela’s favors and even stole an elven name.”
Anvalth clenched his fist, trying to not burst with anger but it was beyond him after hearing such mockery. He turned to Silhelm and grabbed him by the neck.
“One more insult addressed at Élerion and I will rip off your head, even if I have to die afterwards.” Silhelm noticed something unusual about him, but misinterpreted the cause.
“I see elves are not the only ones following the mind set of slaves to that man.” He had a wide grin on his face as he said that, but his grimace faded when he noticed the dark aura enveloping Anvalth. He clawed furiously, trying to push away the arm strangling his neck but it was to no avail. Anvalth pushed him down beneath the water and pressed his palm with inhuman strength against his neck. Silhelm arched his back and pulled his feet to his chest and then released them, pushing away Anvalth out of the water and onto the ground. He jumped himself out of the water and switched to his real form, rapidly growing in size and thickening the fur around his body. His head elongated and changed into that of a wolf, with large, sharp fangs and his palms turned to massive paws, raking the ground in anger. Anvalth seemed powerless on the ground but Silhelm jumped at him with his jaw open, about to chop off his head. With a move matching the wolf’s speed, Anvalth rolled out of the way and jumped up, punching the Great Wolf right in his temple. That hit was enough to make him dizzy and stumble on his feet. Silhelm shook his head furiously but Anvalth sprinted beneath him and punched him in the belly with so much power that he slightly raised him off the ground. The wolf spat blood and whined in pain. Silhelm turned around vigorously smacking Anvalth with his paws into a tree and dashed towards him with his mouth foaming, like a wild beast. He jumped with his claws forward in an attempt to impale Anvalth into the tree but the human jumped up searched wildly for a branch to catch onto. Luckily, his hand stumbled upon a tiny branch which he used to spin around and leap away from the tree, ripping it in the process. Silhelm was unable to stop from the momentum and rammed into the tree, knocking it to the ground. The rumble and shuffling of leaves was enough to scare any wildlife around them. Anvalth fell to the ground and he could feel the strength in his arm and legs fade. His only chance was for another such trick, forcing his opponent’s strength against him. He could sense the voracious glare of the wolf fixed on him. It wouldn’t be long before he fell powerless to the corruption of his Telaar. He had to resort to his Telaar, even if it meant sacrificing more of his humanity. As the wolf was dashing at him with giant steps, making the ground tremble, he stood up and clenched his fist. His eyes opened suddenly, but they were as red as the sky at dawn and blood was flowing from them. He felt no pain and his exhaustion was driven away. He was conscious and he could see once more, but his actions were not his to control. He charged back at the wolf and leapt from the ground as if to jump straight into his mouth. He spun in midair just enough to dodge the incoming bite and grab onto the fur atop the wolf’s head. He raised his fist and smashed Silhelm with vigor, so much so that a loud cracking noise echoed through the forest and he pushed the wolf to the ground with that single punch, leaving a crater beneath him. The wolf’s stamina was remarkable and he refused to give up, rolling around and pushing Anvalth off of him. He then clawed at him with his paws, rending deep wounds over his body.
The two of them suddenly froze in place, staring at each other with hate. Small hurried steps were headed their way.
“I-I can’t believe… What happened here?” yelled Ainnea, with pain in her heart, looking at the ravaged forest. Her sight slipped at the two and noticed both of them were heavily bleeding. Her heart was beating out of her chest and she hurried to them, chanting in an unknown language. She pointed her arm in their direction and the two fell unconscious.
Anvalth opened his eyes again and was blinded by the intense light of his surroundings. He rubbed his eyes and tried to peer through his barely open eye lids… he could see again. He felt a rush of adrenaline, a surge of vigor as if he was alive again. He jumped out of bed and looked around at his surroundings. He was in a small, ornate chamber, so beautiful that it looked like the work of a master carpenter. The designs on the walls and the objects surrounding him, even the chairs and tables seemed of unusual making, elven craftsmanship. He rubbed his eyes once more, opening them widely and looking clearly around. At the door was a woman with long, blonde hair and azure blue eyes, sparkling of uncanny intelligence. She wore a beautiful robe with colorful, floral designs and had a pink flower in her hair. His heart was beating nervously and his hand was shaking.
He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth, standing up slowly. He walked forward with small, heavy steps as he looked for his rapier with slight, unnoticeable movements of his eyes. He came face to face with here, standing taller and imposing over her stature. Neither one of them made a sound as they stared at each other, not revealing any of their feelings in their eyes.
With slow yet gracious movements, Anvalth lowered his body until he was with his head on the ground and his hands not even dared touch her in the slightest. He assumed a repenting position, prostrating himself before her. Her brows furrowed and she looked at him with a pitying, saddened gaze. With a long sigh, she bent down and grabbed his hand, picking him off the ground. With his head still lowered, he leaned forward, kissing the back of her left hand. Only in contrast to her warm hands he realized how cold he was. She slightly raised her right arm, grasping his cheek and wiping away the tears forming around his eyes.
“We all make mistakes. It’s important that we learn from them and become better people.” Her voice was soft and gentle, having a motherly tone, benevolent and scolding at the same time.
“You welcomed me into your home with such warmth and cared for me, yet here I am causing you grief and trouble. Where is the Great Wolf? I wish to apologize to him immediately.” His own voice still surprised him, as grave as it was.
“Silhelm is still unconscious, recovering from the injury.”
“Oh… I see.”
“How are your eyes?” She asked, raising his chin slightly so that she could see his gaze.
“I know not the extent of my Telaar but I can only assume it was its work. I’d say my sight has fully recovered.” Hearing his words, something inside Ainnea changed. It was as if someone took the light from her eyes. “Do you have a small, thick piece of cloth?” With lifeless movements
, she searched through one of the cabinets inside the room and managed to find a fine, black strip of velvet, handing it to him.
“When will you depart for your home?” She asked, turning her back to him while opening the door.
“I can’t leave until you teach me the way to get there, master. Have you forgotten I am blind?” She froze in place and turned around, staring in disbelief. He tied his cloth around his eyes, obstructing his vision. “I have a selfish request before anything. Is there a curse that can bind this to my head for as long as I live? I want it to be both a memory of this when I will go, and a reminder to not stray from the good path.” It was now her turn to shed tears, as she looked at him with a bright smile.
“You don’t have to do this…” She whispered through her faint weeping.
“It is not for you to decide.” He responded, returning the smile with melancholy.
Anvalth was lying on the ground amidst the grass, with his arm beneath his head. He heard from Ainnea that a new tree was growing in place of the old one. The mystic aura surrounding the forest had a beneficial effect on the flora, shortening the time required for its growth. Judging by the sound of hurried footsteps, the preparations were at long last done. It was time for his final trial before he could return home. He stood up with energetic movements and walked in the direction of the steps approaching him. After spending close to two months living in the forest, his feet were easily adapting to the rough ground full of bumps.
“Here take this, it shouldn’t be too heavy.” The soft, gentle voice he had grown accustomed of was that of his master, Ainnea, the princess living in seclusion, far from any civilization. She handed him quite a hefty knapsack with a single brace which he put over his left shoulder. “You have anything that you might need to survive on your own. You can find in there a bedroll, a utility knife, specially prepared elven rations and even currency to suffice for a life time. Your task is to get from where I will be leading you all the way back here.”
“Is the Great Wolf still unconscious? I would’ve liked to say my apologies now.”
“You’ll get another chance when you return.” She said, patting him on the shoulder gently. “I have prepared a sleigh, pulled by the rest of the wolves, which will take us there.” He could hear the hurdling of something large over the ground and several pairs of swift steps, headed their way. Occasional excited barks could be heard and Anvalth thought to himself that they were more like trusty companion dogs than fierce, man eating wolves. “One last thing, since we’re still here.” Anvalth could perceive the faint rustle of cloth as she pulled something out of a bag. “Lower your head, Anvalth son of Geralt.” He did her bidding and could feel, something cold, metallic around his neck. “I bestow upon you the power to overcome your fear. In your darkest times, grab ahold of the angelic charm and your resolve will be restored as long as you have faith and love in your heart.” He touched around the necklace and could feel a scrawny shape resembling a humanoid with wings made of some crystal perhaps.
“Thank you, fair maiden of unparalleled beauty and wisdom.” He had a mischievous smile, and the two hugged and laughed together. It was best to blow off some steam before his last task.
Ainnea grabbed his hand and helped him up the sleigh. She grabbed the reins and he put his arms around her waist, holding onto her. The sleigh moved swiftly through the enclosed forest and out of the thorny gate, riding into the wilderness surrounding the mystic woods. When they set off, the sun shone its first ray of light upon the mansion and they travelled for an entire day, when the cold wind of the night was chilling those unprepared. The wolves were exhausted but Anvalth was restless. Ainnea convinced him that there was no need to worry yet, and forced him to catch some rest because he had a long journey ahead of him. As it was getting late, Anvalth wasn’t really aware of what was going on, but he could hear the melodic voice of a divine being, singing him a lullaby. Ainnea caressed his hair as he fell asleep on her lap and not long after, she herself fell asleep. The following day when she woke up, he was long gone, without even the slightest trace. She smiled, hopped onto her sleigh and rode back to the mansion. Once there, she was greeted by Silhelm right before the gate of thorns.
“Why did you let the human go? It was against the prophecy. You know he is not coming back.”
“His determination to return home to his family struck me as profoundly beautiful. Perhaps I should follow his advice and stop hiding from my responsibilities.”
“I will follow you to the ends of the world and back.” She approached him and caressed his fur, walking through the gate along with him and the sleigh pulled by wolves, as the thorns and vines blocked the path behind them.
“He might return one day.” whispered the elf.
Somewhere, deep in the heart of another forest, a man with a single arm and black cloth wrapped around his eyes began his journey home. Perilous as it was, at the end of his trip would surely await his haven of peace.
Chapter 4 - Respite from life
T he rustle of leaves beneath his feet and the humid weather was a clear indicator for autumn. Most of the days were either rainy or the wind would blow. Leaves occasionally fell by, startling him but he grew weary of it. Anvalth was able to find a river to follow along his path, restoring the water in his flask and having a supply of fresh, cold water as long as he walked by the stream. The water’s whisper was soothing enough to divert his attention from troubling matters. The world was still as dangerous, if not more so than before. He patted the hilt of his rapier leaning from his waist down, thinking if he could take on a demon in his state.
“Oh, it started raining again…” He thought, slightly raising his palm. He remembered the countless times when he fought alongside Tarna, seeing all the images vividly. He was so preoccupied that he stopped in his tracks, focusing his full attention on those memories. He could feel every swing of his arm along with the old sword and he sluggishly moved his arm through the air along those lines, sighing. He shook his head and continued forward. Whenever he lost track of the magical sense, he had to chase away all thoughts and focus on his beloved, Liliana. But it was pretty tough for Anvalth, having such a clouded mind.
The three of them played around in the village, smiling and laughing. At that time, he would’ve never imagined she would become his partner for life; as for the other, he never imagined it wouldn’t be long before her departure to the other world. The small Anvalth was oblivious of the future. Even though it was dawn, the sun was blinding his vision and he couldn’t see either of their faces. He could at least hear their voices, calling for him. Still there was something strange. The sound of his name was gradually changing into two different things. Each of them was calling for something different, other than him.
Anvalth was brought to his senses by his foot stepping over something sharp. It was just a large pebble on the river side. While his magic intuition guided him forward, the river was taking a turn to the right, meaning he didn’t have to cross it. He leaned down and took one last sip, washing his face afterwards. His hand moved around his chin and jaw and he could feel his rough, short beard. He stood back up and continued forward until he ran into a large obstacle. By feeling it around, he determined it was a small, steep cliff which he had to climb in order to continue. He coiled his legs and with a large leap, he grabbed onto some roots coming out from the ground and pulled himself atop the grassy perch. He walked over the muddy ground, huffing silently as he caught his breath.
The rain was growing in intensity and he could even hear thunder in the far distance. He searched around for a larger tree with a dense and wide crown. Upon finding a decent spot, he piled up some leaves, gathered a few partially dry branches and arranged them all in a circular manner around the leaves, finally surrounding everything with pebbles. Because he had only one arm, he had to stick a larger log at the base through the center in which he would implant the steel, afterwards hitting it with the flint to create sparks. It was a tiresome, tedious process but it n
ever failed him… it just took much more effort than otherwise. When the piled up leaves and what little sawdust he mixed together were burning, he pulled out the log and chopped it into multiple pieces for later use to maintain the fire. It was about to be a long, restless night, just like the others. The only time when he managed to fall asleep was right when sun would rise, but his nap wouldn’t last too long. He searched through his knapsack, avoiding the knife he had stashed away, until his hands stumbled on the rations prepared for him. Each ration was the bread replacement for elves, namely polenta. It was made in such a way that it never dried and maintained its soft, warm texture. The rations were wrapped in thin, yet durable cloth which could afterwards be used as a bandage, need be.
Other than the occasional owls at night or woodpeckers during the day, he didn’t encounter any wild life. As much as that gave him some ease of mind, he was getting tired of the elven polenta. At the same time, he had no real way of hunting unless he himself was attacked by wild beasts and even then there was no telling he would come victorious. A pack of ravenous wolves is just as dangerous as one or more demons. The stormy weather was making Anvalth sleepy and so he decided to put the remaining logs over the fire and close his eyes. His senses were sharpened enough that he could feel if danger approached him, he hoped.
He woke up the following day and the rain had not stopped, but it wasn’t as intense as the other day. He sprung up with ease, picked up his knapsack and tossed it over his shoulder and left the small, burn out campfire which served as a beacon of hope for the previous night. Ahead of him, along with the distant presence he chased, there was something much closer, standing in his way. The rain drops were falling over him more often and he could tell he was out of the forest. The grass was getting thinner and rarer and the ground muddier and slippery. He continued until he bumped against something. It was taller than he could reach, but it was wider than a tree and perfectly vertical. The only viable explanation was the presence of a house, or even a village and yet there could be heard no sound. The weather wasn’t so terrible as to force everyone inside their homes. He followed the wall all the way to where it ended and continued past it. Even though he couldn’t see, he could feel the shadows of the buildings surrounding him. As suspicious as the town was, he had to inspect it in the hopes he could buy some more provisions or get some information of his whereabouts. He carefully wandered around every house, searching for the doors and knocking a few times. No response once, twice; it felt as if the village was deserted.
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