The Storm Breaks
Elowyn passed through the northern gate, which opened out onto dense woodlands that stretched for several days’ journey. Even without Einar’s warning, she would have avoided the Eastern gate, which was sure to be flooded with people returning to the nearby towns and farms to the south. She felt the need to be by herself, to try to understand what she had just experienced, and why it had sickened her so. She had witnessed the cruelty of the Sovereign’s punishments before. Over the years she had been forced to watch hangings, and beatings with the lash, and had walked by any number of people locked in the stocks on the edge of the square. Such sights had always greatly disturbed her, but never before had she felt such cause to question whether or not the sentence was just. This particular execution had felt very wrong to her, and her heart could not endure the casual way in which the crowds had accepted it. As Elowyn struggled with her emotions, she came to realize that she was upset by more than just the day’s events. She felt an impending sense that the world was changing around her, far more quickly than she liked. Something within herself was changing too. The events of the past week had put an enormous strain on her spirit, and she knew not where to turn for relief. She, who so passionately enjoyed her solitude, did not like feeling alone.
Even though Elowyn had closed her eyes during the execution, the sound of the axe striking the block repeatedly still rang in her ears, tormenting her. Against her will, her imagination conjured up its own images to go along with the sounds. They kept repeating until she was ready to fall upon her knees and beg Aviad to have mercy and quiet her mind. She wanted so much to be able to cry, to mourn for this man she did not know. Somehow she thought that might make her feel better. But the tears simply would not fall. It was as though part of her had been executed too, a piece of her humanity severed. She could only stumble forward blindly, in a kind of dazed numbness.
Elowyn eventually realized that she was gaining no joy or comfort from her walk; she was merely getting herself lost. Never having traversed the woodlands beyond the north gate, she didn’t know the trees here. The direction of the beaten paths, the locations of the streams, and the patterns of the animals were all a mystery to her. She was beginning to feel hungry, too. Finding a tree that seemed inviting, she sank against its trunk. A gentle wind pressed a few young, low branches so close around her that the tips of their leaves tickled her face. She felt almost as if the tree sensed her despair and was giving her a loving hug. Perhaps she was silly to imagine such things—Morganne would no doubt think so—but she felt it all the same. Whether real or imagined, the thought made her feel a little better.
Elowyn closed her eyes and tried to let the warmth of the sun melt away the shadows in her heart. The sounds of the forest grew deeper and more vibrant; the chatter of birds all around, the rustle of small animals disturbing the winter’s remaining blanket of dead leaves, running water in the far distance, and the hypnotic sound of the west wind caressing the tops of the trees. She could hear the soft but growing rumble moving toward her, like an impending wave that would soon wash over her and continue on throughout the whole of the wood. Her breathing deepened and she began to relax for the first time since that last blissfully innocent night she’d spent stargazing from her favorite tree by the stream. She was startled out of her thoughts by a voice that was familiar.
“I wondered how long it would take you to show in the northern wood. I had begun to fear that the Hounds had devoured you after all.”
Elowyn looked up to see Einar leaning against a nearby tree. He seemed different today than when he had saved her from the wolf-beast. His voice was like a still pond, low and heavy-laden with some unspoken burden. His face showed no sign of joy; even that familiar bitter smirk had been wiped away.
“No, I didn’t get eaten. I’ve had to stay home and tend the garden. It was time to pull the weeds away from the spring herbs …” Elowyn stopped abruptly. She realized that it didn’t matter what she had been doing for the past three days, nor did he want to know. It was the way he said things that made her feel as though she must straighten her shoulders and give an accounting of herself.
“How did you find me here? I haven’t been walking anywhere in particular. To be truthful,” she flushed, “I have no idea where I am. I was just going to rest a few minutes and then get my bearings.”
“Did I not tell you that you would be watched for in the northern wood?”
Elowyn felt a slight chill. Had he been silently watching her all this time? She stood up and peered nervously through the brush. Until Einar had spoken aloud she had not felt any presence but her own, and it unnerved her that she had not sensed his approach. Were others watching as well without her knowledge?
Einar motioned for her to sit again. “Not like that, little maiden. The wood is not full of spies set to follow you. I only meant that very little happens in this part of the wood without my knowledge. I live out here, you know. This is my home.” He gestured grandly with his arms in a way that included everything within sight and beyond. “Every curve of these hills is burned within my heart and soul.”
That was one sentiment Elowyn could relate to. She relaxed again, though part of her still did not know whether it was fully safe to trust this man.
“So, what did you think of Tyrocian Justice, eh? Quite a spectacle today.” Einar’s tone gave Elowyn the impression that he was trying very hard to hold back an immense flood of anger, though she could not tell exactly what he was angry about. She scanned his features carefully, wondering how she was expected to respond. But his expression was closed and tight. She fidgeted nervously. Saying the wrong thing could be dangerous, yet she had to say something.
“I only went because I had to. Mother dragged me.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth she felt terrible. They were true of course, but the event had much more of an impact on her than that. In truth she was horrified by what she had seen, and was rent with compassion for the executed man. Considering the crowd’s response and the serious charges brought against him, she was afraid to speak out on his behalf, even to Einar. After all, what if he really had been guilty of all they accused him of? Would she want someone like that roaming free? Mixed in with the horror of brutality was a wellspring of confusion that nagged at her. Usually she had such a clear sense of what was right, and what was fair. Today that sense was clouded.
But Elowyn was an honest child at heart, and she felt compelled to speak as much truth as was safe. “Everyone seemed happy to watch him die. I don’t know what he did, or if he did anything at all. But killing him did not make me feel glad, or safe.” She looked up to gauge his reaction and was surprised to find his head was bent low over his knees. He was not even looking at her. She finally understood that the burden Einar bore so heavily that day was grief, and it occurred to Elowyn that perhaps he had known the executed man.
After a long silence, she asked timidly, “Did you know him?”
“You could say that. He was like a brother to me.”
“Did he really do all that they say?”
Einar paused for a long time, wrestling with his own thoughts before letting out a weary sigh. “Things are not always the way they seem. Someday, when you are older, you will understand that. But, no, he did not murder innocents. He did nothing more than was necessary to preserve the life of his family and the families of others.” Einar’s muscles tightened and the anger returned to his face, wiping out all traces of grief save the shadows under his eyes.
His statement left her with more questions than answers. Einar quite obviously knew far more than he was telling her, but she dared not pry.
“I didn’t like the man in the black cape.” Elowyn shivered slightly, remembering vividly the way she’d felt when his eyes had lifted to meet hers.
Einar’s eyebrows rose with interest. “Eh, what man is that?”
“The man standing next to the brothers. He’s supposed to take the Sovereign’s place until the younger son is old enough. I
don’t remember his name.”
“I was not there young maid, I only heard about what went on. But I understand now of which man you speak. What do you know of him?”
Elowyn shrugged. “Nothing at all. I just didn’t like him. He … he didn’t seem right somehow.”
Einar nodded, studying her thoughtfully. “So, you didn’t like him,” he said as he began to chuckle to himself. The sound was completely unexpected, and Elowyn wasn’t sure how to take it. “A little child indeed …” He stared absently, consumed for a moment by some unspoken thought.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It is from an old rhyme.
‘In the night the shadow will come
It will pay no heed to the morning sun
O’er every hill and valley it will creep
Washing o’er us while we reap
But while the world stands blinded in the dark of day
A little child will show the way.’
“Actually,” Einar said, standing up and dusting himself off, “it is an old prophecy if you hold with that sort of thing.”
“But what does that have to do with the black-caped man?”
“Everything.”
Elowyn liked Einar. She couldn’t help it. He had showed her kindness. He spoke to her as though she was worthy of being spoken to (which was far better treatment than she was usually accustomed to), and of course, most of all, he had saved her life. Because of that, she felt a certain devotion to him, and an inner need to repay her debt. Certainly she admired his wood skills and hoped that someday he might teach her. But she had difficulty understanding him at times. He made strange remarks, and more than once he had referred to an impending darkness which Elowyn found to be extremely troubling.
Einar scanned the blue sky overhead. The sun was beginning its afternoon descent as wispy white clouds passed over. “You had best not sleep out among the trees tonight, little maiden, the storm will be upon us soon.”
“What storm?” There was no sign of bad weather anywhere in the sky, or on the wind.
“You must trust me on this, it will be here. Before night falls you will see it on the horizon.”
“How do you know this?” Elowyn asked with awe. She thought perhaps he was gleaning some clue from their surroundings that she was unaware of.
“That is the one thing I beg you not to ask. I can only see into the night ahead because my eyes, unlike yours, are no longer shielded by innocence. May they remain so for a while longer. But before you go, I have both a gift for you, and a boon to ask. Whether or not you grant my boon, little maiden, it is my greatest desire that you accept the gift. My heart might rest more easily knowing that you have it.”
He handed her an object bundled in heavy cloth. She eagerly pulled away the wrapping to reveal a new belt and a long, nimble dagger in a plain, but well made, leather sheath. Gasping in surprise, she closed her fingers about the cold, heavy hilt and drew it out. The blade was so finely polished that she could see the leaves above her reflected in its surface.
She looked up at Einar in wonder and disbelief. No one had ever given her such a gift before, and she didn’t know quite what to do, or what to say. He smiled warmly at her, probably the first genuine smile she had seen cross his features since they had met.
“I bought it especially for you, so wear it well. A dagger is not a toy, nor is it a tool to be used for crude, mundane purposes that will dull and weaken the blade. This is a weapon of defense, something to protect you while you are wandering about in the wilds.”
He showed her the proper way to hold and wield it, and taught her the best strategies he knew of to use her small size to her advantage; how to twist herself free from a predator’s grasp, and how to keep an opponent from using her own blade against her. In the end, he gave her a strong warning that she would need to practice a great deal in order to truly master the weapon’s use.
“With this blade,” he said, “I mean not to give you cause to run headlong into danger. Rather, I hope that it just might give you enough of an advantage to get out of it in dire circumstances. Your best hope of survival, little maiden, is still to remain within the protection of Tyroc’s walls.” He made the statement not as a chastisement, but with just a hint of bemusement in his eye. He knew very well that she would not follow his advice, nor did he expect her to.
“And now,” Einar’s tone grew serious, “the boon I must ask.” His expression saddened again, as though he did not much like what he was about to ask of her. “When we first met, you told me that you had found a bow, left by someone the Hounds had slain and carried off. Do you still have it?” Elowyn nodded. “I would very much like to see it—not take it, mind you, but simply examine it. It may aid my search for my lost friend.”
Elowyn felt relieved. From the look on his face, she had expected he had a difficult and unpleasant task for her.
“Of course you may look at it. I will bring it to you,” Elowyn said without hesitation. She hoped that he would not insist on following her home. It would not do at all for her mother to see her walking about with a strange man, nor did Elowyn want her to see the bow, or any of the other little treasures she had hidden away from prying eyes. But Einar did not offer to walk her home, and indeed seemed somewhat relieved that she did not ask him to. Elowyn sensed more than ever that a great mystery hung about him. He was clearly more than a mere woodsman, but he didn’t seem willing to offer much information about himself.
“Where should I meet you? All the places I knew are overrun now,” Elowyn said mournfully.
“Look that way. See the hill and the large boulder? On the other side of that lies a small cluster of ruins. It was once a glorious temple and shrine to Aviad, but was felled during the Great War and never rebuilt. The new temple was erected inside the city walls to protect it from being destroyed a second time. When you are able, I want you to meet me there. I will keep watch for you as long as I can. But for now, young maid,” he said, scanning the skies again, “you had best begin your journey home. The sun will soon set, and the storm will be upon us.”
Elowyn searched again for signs of bad weather and found nothing. He spoke with such confidence it was difficult not to believe him. As much as she wanted to sleep under the comfort of the night sky to soothe her fears, she instead picked her way carefully back to Tyroc, making certain that she could remember how to get back. She left little markings for herself every so often, imprinting the landscape on her mind—taking special note of an unusually shaped tree here, an interesting rock face there, until the great wall of the city finally loomed before her. There, behind the cover of some thick brush, she strapped her new belt and blade to her chemise so that they would remain hidden beneath her clothes. The dagger would only draw questions from Morganne and her mother that she was not yet prepared to answer.
Elowyn discovered that she had emerged about half way between the north and east gates. She followed the city wall until she came to the road that would lead her back home. By the time she reached the cottage, the sun was hanging low on the horizon. Ahead of her, the sky was clear and perfect, with a vibrant wash of colors smeared across it. She paused to drink in their beauty and wondered if perhaps Einar could be wrong. But when she turned to give a fleeting glance back in the direction of Tyroc, her heart sank.
Great swells of dark clouds were beginning to form. They were the most foreboding clouds she had ever seen, and some primitive instinct urged her to run and hide before they were close enough to overtake her. She could tell that they were moving very fast, billowing up and out like thick smoke, rising higher and higher into the sky as they formed. Everything beneath them had an eerie, unnatural greenish-yellow cast. The first hint of thunder rumbled in the distance, and Elowyn could see bright, jagged streaks of lightning spreading out from cloud to cloud. She flung open the door and raced inside. Her mother was immersed in her weaving and paid no attention, no doubt trying to make up for time lost earlier that day. Morganne was stirring some p
ottage over the fire for supper, the beginnings of a new garment spread out across the trestle table.
“There you are!” Morganne exclaimed. “And whatever is the matter?”
“There is a bad storm coming this way.” Elowyn grabbed Morganne’s hand, dragged her outside, and pointed in the direction of the quickly massing darkness. Morganne was usually stout of heart at such times, but even her face paled as she stared dumbfounded for a few seconds at the huge mass moving toward them. But she quickly gathered her wits, running behind the cottage to bring in several lines of cloth that had been hanging out in the sun. Elowyn closed the shutters as securely as possible and barred them from the outside. She hoped they would hold in spite of the oncoming wind. She also dragged in as much wood as she could in order to keep their fire going through the night. For a brief time the storm seemed to stall, hanging a good distance away, but growing darker, higher, and more threatening. The wind blew in erratic bursts, nearly knocking Elowyn down one moment, holding perfectly still the next. Just as the girls raced inside and Elowyn prepared to fasten the front door behind her, the storm was upon them. It struck as suddenly and sharply as a blow across the face. The wind tried to rip the handle out of Elowyn’s grasp, but Morganne helped her pull it shut and secure it. The little cottage shook and groaned, the shutters rattled and the rain began. The sound of it was like an army on the march … steady, terrifying, and relentless. Adelin was frightened and began to cry. Morganne instinctively picked her up to soothe her.
Journey to Aviad Page 6