Winterhorn (Tokens Of Benevolence Book 1)

by Nicolae Ovidiu Baiculescu

  Inside my head, a constant battle raged between wanting to return home and continuing towards the unknown. Its distressing power was wavering from one side to the other in a never-ending cycle, causing an annoying headache. When one seemed to prevail over the other, new questions emerged restoring the balance. One of the most pressing concerns I found myself facing was the unusual company I was travelling with – a dragon, a witch and an imp. Creatures that until a few days ago I thought were only imaginary characters, invented for the delight of young children, were now to be my companions on a mysterious venture.

  How did I get here? Could it be that all this is a dream?

  As a matter of fact, ever since I used Winterhorn and killed the bear, everything felt as if I was not in control of myself. The mist of glowing light, that engulfed me at the height of my action, had disappeared and the dulled sounds around me felt as vibrant and sharp as ever, but I couldn’t tell for sure if I was still in the same state or not. There was also something else persisting, a feeling I could not see nor distinguish. Something that I picked up from that moment and lingered about me, making me wonder if it would ever go away.

  Aren’t dreams supposed to feel like this?

  It was no coincidence that everything started to happen after my tussle with the bear and, almost convinced of my theory, I started closing my eyes for long moments and opening them again. A silly sight, had anyone looked at me. Then I continued walking and tried to ignore any sort of thoughts whatsoever.

  The air whistling above, sounded angrier and bore news of the summer’s end, forewarning the arrival of a heavy autumn. Its sharp bite left deeper marks on the open skin of my hand’s blisters and cuts that still had a long way to fully mend. In the coolness of the evening I could think of only one thing that would ease the tumult of my mind; my fondness for the night’s light, or better the lack of it.

  Since I was small, I felt attracted by the mystery that night provided with its dark veils. Common things turn to frightful and daunting monsters in the midst of night, at the pace of one’s imagination. Yet when everyone else was scared, I only wanted to venture and explore. Often I loitered inside the forest and listened attentively to the curious laments and calls of the night’s predators, that in the same fashion as objects, changed in the lack of light. Back then, I hadn’t known what danger and fear meant. Only when I became big enough to be needed around the house and stopped doing childish things, had my fear begun to surface. I stopped venturing towards and fighting my demons. Nana always told me that if you are scared of something you should fight that fear and not let it delve within your core until it becomes a bigger monster than it actually is.

  I am sure this will make for a decent demon to fight! The thought made me smile, and added motivation to my venture ahead.

  Alas, for the very same reason, I had often been grounded for thoughtlessly putting myself in danger and scaring my family. Thinking back on it now, I knew their luck and my salvation had been because of my condition. Had I been able to run freely and easily, I would’ve most likely ventured too far for them to track me and ended up lost in the woods or eaten alive by the wolves.

  I wondered if this was about to change as I was free and I venturing somewhere unknown, farther than they could come look for me.

  After my mind’s wandering, my body made my wits return with a spiked pain. My recently-mended knee was giving signs of fatigue. Still, we kept on.

  We reached the snowy slopes in almost complete darkness, and if it weren’t for the witch’s sharp sight and her remarkable knowledge of the mountain, I could have been searching for the small hut the entire night without success.

  The light that emanated from inside was not visible until we stood a few feet away, inexplicably so, until I understood it was magic that concealed the place.

  “Welcome back!” The imp greeted us as we entered.

  “It is so nice and warm here!” I shook the snow from my boots, and rubbed my palms together. “Where is Ghaeloden?”

  When both the imp and the witch looked at me perplexed, I knew I shouldn’t have asked. “He went hunting, obviously!”

  I wondered how much a dragon of his size would need to gratify his appetite for a day.

  “I am happy you have decided to join us, master Lorian! There are so many things I would like you to see once we reach the citadel.” Nuuk found me by the stove.

  Probably it was exhaustion that made his enthusiasm seem a little out of place, however I did appreciate his interest. If it weren’t for the troubling thoughts of having left my brothers and my grandmother, I would probably have felt enthusiastic myself.

  “The tea will be ready soon, and before we leave this cold hut, you should eat a chunk of bread at least,” Naghnatë suggested.

  “Leave now? But it’s night and we just arrived. Getting to Arkhanthï will take us weeks to reach on foot. Isn’t it very far north?” I was concerned at my ability to undertake such a long journey after having lost my strength and desire to walk.

  “We’re already late! We were supposed to leave this afternoon and we have delayed our departure to give you a chance to see your nana and your brothers.” Naghnatë ignored my apprehension.

  I sighed, too tired to argue.

  “I know I may seem unkind and unfair, lad, yet we have more pressing matters to attend to. If you only realised how things really are, you’d understand what I mean,” Naghnatë said with a softer voice, gently placing a hand my shoulder.

  “I understand,” I pretended I did, “I’m only tired and a bit miserable; I fear for my grandmother’s wellbeing. She likes to show she’s strong, though I know she worries.”

  “Be strong, master Lorian, if we succeed in our quest, things will change for the better, and for good this time. I promise you that! And if you behave, I might decide to divulge some of my little secrets.” She winked at me with a smile. “How would you like to learn how to cook the haste-powder? Your horse appreciated it a great deal, don’t you think?”

  “Would you do that?”

  “Sure, I don’t see why not. And also, just so you know, we are not going to walk or fly to Arkhanthï. No, sir! It would be too perilous and would take us way too long as you’ve already pointed out.” She laughed with excitement and exchanged a glance with the imp, who appeared more impatient than me. “We are going to shift ourselves closer to the citadel and from there, once ready, walk.”

  “Shift?” I was confounded.

  “Yes, shift. It doesn’t require a horse, only some magic. You’ll see, it’s plenty of fun!”

  “I’ve heard Felduror mentioning something similar on occasion. Not sure it was ‘shifting’ he called it. It did, nonetheless, imply travelling without any known means,” Nuuk added.

  “Felduror? You personally know the evil wizard?” I was alarmed at how little I knew about my companions. “Can someone please tell me who you really are?” I asked curtly.

  A moment passed.

  “You’re right, young master. I beg your forgiveness for not having properly introduced ourselves, and I blame it again on the urgency and lack of time. It is only proper to tell you a bit more about ourselves,” replied Naghnatë.

  She paused for a moment and the imp took a seat.

  “Both me and Nuuk have known the wizard at some point in our lives. I was his apprentice and the imp and his kin, were taken against their will from Grora to be studied by the wizard, since Iprorims are, like dragons, creatures that are born bearing magical powers. Felduror, thanks to other wicked minds’ scripts, has succeeded in extracting the knowledge of magic from within each creature, but at a dear cost. The weak creatures have been left to die or abandoned, who knows where, having lost their strengths and wits. Though, for unknown reasons, the wizard decided to keep Nuuk and, as far as I can tell, he doesn’t seem to have lost any of his powers.” She appeared curious herself. “Nuuk, does it seem that you are lacking any of your powers?” she asked.

  He swallowed tersely and look at u
s both, “I could perform the healing spell quite easily –”

  “I think there is a better way for us to see if you are still capable, although I wonder if that piece of magically-imbued thread would not alter your prowess,” she interrupted him.

  Nuuk looked concerned.

  “You should try and test your magic skills!” Naghnatë said.

  “Can I?” Nuuk seemed surprised, and pleasantly so, as a nod from the witch made him jump eagerly to his feet and stand in the centre of the small hut.

  He lifted his right hand towards fireplace where the embers were dancing with the flames in a sparkling-noise whirl. He held his breath and moved his lips slightly for the briefest of moments.

  Unexpectedly, and with nervous flickering, the fire escaped the metal stove and started moving in the direction his hand was pointing. The burning flames moved as if still powered by the embers, though the embers were dead black in the stove. The fire-ball was dancing now in mid-air animated by his fingers and as soon as he approached any candle, the smaller flame would join the biggest one leaving the black wick wafting with smoke. He giggled and moved the flame closer to my face, making me wobble on the rear legs of my chair.

  “Do not fret, master Lorian. I would not hurt you, not ever!” His amused faced reassured me.

  I lifted my hand and tried to reach closer to the sizzling, dancing fire-ball, and as I did, I could feel the comforting warmth grow into a dangerous raging fire.

  “This is incredible!” I exclaimed, mindless of how foolish I must have looked.

  “Very well, imp! Do you feel tired?” the witch asked.

  “I am fine!” He could not contain a wild grin.

  “Would you dare try something more?” Naghnatë asked.

  “More?” I asked, but they did not even consider me.

  What more could there be than wielding fire?

  The imp apparently knew what she meant because he nodded his consent. Instantly, the flames were restored to each candle and the ball of fire to the stove. He then sat himself comfortably in the chair and took a moment, as if to recollect his strength. With both hands cupped on his knees and tight-shut eyes he appeared as still as a sculpture.

  A long moment of cold silence followed and when he opened his eyes again, they were as black as charcoal. All the candles went out with a glimmer and a poof while the fire inside the stove started flickering with vigour and turn blue-white. As we stood dazzled, watching the motionless imp, a whirlwind of energy burst visibly around him, making his body tremble and shake with verve. Soon, everything around him started to shake. I fixed my eyes upon a noisy, shaking board on the floor, and noted with surprise the rusted nails were slowly being pulled upwards by the spinning mass of energy around his body. More boards followed, and the noise inside the hut became unbearable – as if a violent storm was tearing apart the loose shingles of a roof. I grasped my chair tightly, feeling it move in spite of my weight and as I lifted my eyes, I saw Nuuk’s chair fluctuating steadily in the air. The shakiness of my chair increased and as I tried to hold it tighter, I became distracted by Naghnatë’s laughter. She too was lifted in the air. Surprisingly she was not scared; she was dangling her feet like a child in awe, laughing crazily with her face upwards. The noise grew louder and all around us bigger objects were being lifted in the air, dangerously spinning with vigour in the same direction.

  “Is this safe?” my shout reached nobody.

  The crackling noise of the boards and the gusts of wind made it impossible to be heard. I almost couldn’t hear myself think. Even Naghnatë’s loud laughter faded to a faint, barely distinguishable turbulence to my left. My heart started beating faster and I vacillated heavily realising I was floating above the floor on my chair. I did not have time to react as the foundation of the small hut started to crackle with loud snaps, as if it was being unearthed from the mountain. I gulped nervously and clutched tighter onto my seat, prepared to be completely lifted into the air together with the hut and everything inside it.

  Yet as I closed my eyes, the cacophony of noises ceased. The whirlwind recoiled, quickly losing in intensity and volume. All around inside the hut, every object that was fluctuating moments before, returned to its place.

  Quick, short breaths helped me recover my normal heart beat and I watched astounded how every single nail was returned to its place by a magic, invisible force. A persistent scratching noise of metal against the wood distracted me and I looked towards Naghnatë. She was keeping the tip of her sole on a rusty nail, which was restlessly trying to escape. She appeared entertained by her petty deed and only too reluctant to free the vivacious piece of iron, which flew straight back across the room to its hole. As soon as it settled, every candle burst with tiny flames again and everything was as it was before. The ravaging whirlwind had left the room noiseless, making my ears whistle.

  Nuuk recovered from his statue-like state and I witnessed his dark charcoal-eyes regaining their vivid green shade.

  “What happened?” His first words were weak.

  He tried to lift himself but landed back on the chair unable to stand. The witch hurried to assist him and gently settled him on the wooden chair, stroking his head with tenderness.

  “That was a very fine demonstration, master Nuuk! If it weren’t for that darn string, I think we would’ve witnessed the most beautiful and powerful display of pure magic!”

  That was the first time I heard the witch speak with proud and trembling voice.

  “Was it pleasant to the eye? I cannot remember much.” Nuuk let out a faint and tired smile.

  “I believe you performed a recall-spell,” she continued.

  “What does that mean?” I asked perplexed.

  “It is one of the hardest spells to achieve. A recall-spell is a spell one can cast even if he or she doesn’t remember learning it. It’s a natural spell written in your core and blood and stays with you forever. Obviously if you are a magical creature, that is. You are not taught a recall-spell; you only earn it by your magical existence. Every magical being has one that reveals itself at some point during their lifetime and I think Nuuk has just found his.”

  I felt infected by her joy.

  “I’ve seen only a few of them during my years and I can only say they all differ. This was just marvellous!” Naghnatë continued.

  “And what does it perform?” I insisted.

  “I am afraid that is not something we can know. Only the caster can understand its true significance, once completed. Though I am afraid our friend was interrupted just before the end.” She raised herself from the wooden floor and collected some fresh water for him.

  “Thank you!” Nuuk eagerly grabbed the mug from her hand. “I feel very tired. Ghaeloden will return any time now and I would not want to upset him by not being ready to depart. Do you mind helping me rest a moment on the bed?” He appeared worn.

  The witch helped him to the bed and pulled the blanket on top of him. He fell asleep as fast as a stone hits the bottom of a river.

  “We should let him recover his strength. He is not accustomed to wielding magic any more, and this here, was one of the big spells! Even I’d fall fast asleep after something like that.” Naghnatë dashed outside the hut.

  I followed her outside into the dark, cold evening.

  “Will he be alright?” I asked.

  “Magic takes its toll on every caster! Every spell, as small as it is, requires strength. Sleep and rest is the only remedy. You might have experienced something similar.”

  The astonishing, magical trial of the imp, made me forget how tired and stunned I had felt after my trial with the bear.

  Magic is a strange thing! I thought.

  Indeed, it is! Yet, it is also the most powerful force in the world! Ghaeloden’s voice rang inside my head.

  “Ghaeloden!” I looked up, searching the dark-blue sky.

  When his powerful wings could be heard, Naghnatë told me to step inside and prepare something for us to eat, before our departure.
She’d take care of explaining what transpired to the dragon, as most likely he had felt the surge of magic and would want to be advised.

  While I busied myself on heating the broth, I heard Ghaeloden land. The witch welcomed him with a reassuring ‘Let me tell you everything,’ before he said a word.

  It took me a couple of sneaky bites of the smoked cheese, wheat bread and red onions that I found under a piece of cloth in the storage crevice, before they settled their discussion and Naghnatë came joining me for the warm soup that was boiling on the stove.

  We ate without words, cherishing the warm dinner in the cold of the night. The rich flavours of the soft vegetables reminded me of one of my favourite soups; the smoked-pork soup, that my grandmother liked finishing by adding a generous amount of fresh cream and a couple of spoons of vinegar, right before she’d take the pot off the stove. The only thing I loved more than a warm soup, was a warm soup accompanied by a good amount of pickled hot peppers.

  “How did our new friend find the magic trial?” Ghaeloden’s voice brought me back from my musings.

  “It was the scariest and most exciting thing I have ever witnessed, master Ghaeloden! Second only to almost being killed by that bear, that is!” I replied, wiping my mouth.

  “Magic has this effect on many, young master. Disastrous, treacherous, yet astonishingly beautiful!”

  “I only pray I’ll be there to witness your recall-spell when time comes!” the dragon added.

  “My what? How is that –”

  “Enough with this magic brandishing. I’ve had enough for one day!” Naghnatë’s voice was angrier than before, as she interrupted me. “I think we are ready to leave this place! Have you had your fill of food?”

  “I- I have!” I replied, wondering what caused her distress so abruptly. “I am ready for the journey!” I lied.