by Ryan Cahill
The crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers.
Rist caught Calen’s attention and rolled his eyes in Dann’s direction. Dann raised his tankard in the air, roaring his appreciation at the sky while his free hand was wrapped around the waist of a young woman from Ölm, evident by the way her hair was braided at the back in twisting knots. Rist and Calen had decided that they would steer clear of mead for the night. The Proving was going to be difficult enough without starting the day with drums banging in their heads.
“As you all know,” Erdhardt continued, “for centuries, the young men of the villages, in their eighteenth summer, gather here on the edge of Ölm Forest to take part in The Proving. They will spend three nights in the depths of the forest with only a knife and a bow. For these are the two things that will ensure they never go hungry. They must show that they understand how to survive on their own before we can allow them out into the world. So it has been, and so it will be. We go in groups – never less than two, and never more than four – to forge bonds that will last a lifetime; for no weight is too heavy when shared. But listen closely. Do not take this lightly. Ölm Forest is a dangerous place at night, and there are larger things than wolfpines that roam its depths. It has claimed the lives of many.”
There was a momentary silence. The earlier ruckus died down as the crowd was swept up in Erdhardt’s ominous words. “As such, it has long been the case that each group must return with the pelt of a predator. You must stand against what you fear – and conquer it. Only then will you pass The Proving, for everything you seek lies on the other side of fear. However, the group who returns on the fourth morning, after the third night, with the pelt of the most dangerous predator will be announced as the victors of The Hunt, and they will, of course, receive the victors’ purse.
“For tonight, drink heartily, eat well, and warm yourselves by the fire. Take advice from your fathers, better advice from your mothers, and laugh with your siblings. Tomorrow, you enter the forest as boys and return to us as men.”
Erdhardt raised his tankard of mead in the air, which was mimicked by the crowd. Those without tankards raised their closed fists. Calen felt a surge of pride flow through him as he crunched his fingers into a fist and thrust his hand into the air. A fire burned in the pit of Calen’s stomach as Erdhardt spoke the blessings of the Gods.
“May The Mother embrace you,
and The Father protect you.
May The Warrior guide your hand
and The Maiden guide your mind.
May The Smith keep your blade sharp
and The Sailor see you to safe shores.”
The sun had not yet risen above the mountains to the east, but Calen couldn’t sleep. He stared off into the distance while he ran his knife over a small whetstone, again and again.
“How sharp can a knife be?” Calen hadn’t heard Ella come into the kitchen.
Ella glared at Calen as he mimicked her, in as high-pitched a tone as he could reach.
“You know that I can hear you, right?” She stepped out onto the porch, nudging Calen’s shoulder with her own as she sat down beside him. She handed him some bread and cheese, which he took with a half-hearted smile before returning his gaze to the hazy distance.
“Sorry,” Calen sighed, shrugging.
Ella let a few moments pass before she spoke again. “You’re thinking about Haem, aren’t you?”
The knife stopped moving back and forth across the whetstone. Calen hadn’t even noticed that he was still sharpening the knife. He turned his head to answer Ella, but once he met her gaze, he immediately dropped his eyes to the floor, the air puffing out of his chest. He felt the soft touch of her hand at the side of his cheek as she slowly turned his head back up toward her face.
“He would be proud, Calen. I might not say it to you often, but I’m proud. You’re my brother, and you are a pain in my backside most of the time, but I am proud of you.” She pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders. “Come on, let’s go inside and have tea with Mam and Dad. Put your knife away until you’re in the forest. It can’t get any sharper.”
With that, she brushed the crumbs of bread off her dress, stood up, and walked back into the kitchen. Calen was sure that there would never come a day when he would understand Ella. One minute, she mocked him; the next, she told him she’s proud of him. He hoped all women weren’t like that.
He tossed the last of the bread and cheese into his mouth, sheathed the knife, and placed it back into his satchel. He then followed Ella into the kitchen, careful to put the whetstone back onto the shelf by the door.
Freis and Vars entered the kitchen not long after the sun had crested the mountain. The morning light caused Calen to wince as he shuffled in his chair.
Vars knuckled Calen’s head affectionately. A warm smile rested on his face as he looked out at the rising sun and back towards Calen. There was an anxiety in the way Freis shuffled about the kitchen, pouring everyone deep mugs of Arlen root tea.
“You know I hate Arlen root tea,” Calen protested, his nose scrunching up into a ball at the earthy smell wafting from the mug.
“Calen Bryer, you are about to go into a dangerous forest for three nights. It will be cold, dark, and wet. There are animals in there with teeth and claws. Arlen root will keep your mind focused. I am your mother. Drink your tea.”
Calen glared at Freis’ back while he choked down a mouthful of poison that masqueraded as tea. Vars exchanged a look with Ella, and they both broke out in laughter, much to Calen’s annoyance.
“Okay, once we’ve all finished this delicious tea,” Vars said, another laugh escaping him as Calen shot him a dirty look, “we should get going. The Havels will most likely be there already. I’m not so sure about Dann. I would say Tharn had to drag him out of bed this morning. Talked the ear off that poor Ölm girl last night before he passed out.”
That brought a smirk to Calen’s face, which was swiftly wiped away by another mouthful of tea.
By the time they had gathered themselves and set off towards the edge of Ölm Forest, the streets were alive with people. The sound of children playing blended with the spring birdsong, which crashed against the roll of wheels as traders moved their carts into position, trying to sell off the last of their wares. The Proving always brought a din of excitement with it to match the tense anticipation that hung in the air.
Every so often, someone stopped Calen to wish him well and exchange a few words with Vars and Freis, commenting on what a fine young man Calen had become. He would have enjoyed the compliments had it been a different day. As it was, he nodded and thanked them, his mind busy on other things.
“Okay, you head on, and I’ll meet you at the forest,” Vars said. “I figure I should probably check in on Tharn and Dann, make sure they are all set and ready to go. You know what they can be like.”
“Okay, dear.” Freis kissed him on the cheek and continued to shuffle Calen and Ella through the streets.
Once they made their way to the edge of the town, after being stopped for a pat on the back and a well-wishing smile every ten paces, the rest of the journey to the meeting point didn’t take long. There were hundreds of people at the edge of Ölm Forest, gathered from all across the villages to witness the young men begin The Proving. The small red flag perched atop a wooden podium was meant to mark the meeting point, but it wasn’t much use hidden in the throngs of people.
“Calen, Freis, Ella, over here!” Calen would have recognised Elia Havel’s shrill voice anywhere. She was a small, easily-excitable woman. Her chestnut brown hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, highlighting her high cheekbones and wide smile. Elia’s bubbly demeanour was a contrast to Lasch’s stoic nature. Maybe they balanced each other out? It was hard to think what Elia would be like on her own if this was her balanced out.
Elia pulled him into a tight hug, her slight frame capable of quite some strength when she was excited. “Oh, Calen, you boys are all so grown up. Look at you! You’ve l
ost all that baby fat.” Calen winced as she pinched his cheek, the sincere smile never fading from her face.
“Elia, I—”
“And you’ve gotten so tall! You’re almost as broad as your father now!”
“Elia, you only saw me yesterday,” Calen snapped, pushing away her probing hands. Her smile momentarily curled into a frown.
Calen and Rist exchanged a brief nod before Elia’s attention turned to Freis.
“How are you this morning, Freis? Excited to see our young boys become young men? Our Rist is terribly excited as well. Aren’t you, sweetie?” Elia turned her giddy smile towards her son, an expectant look on her face.
Rist rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mother…” he huffed, a touch of exasperation in his voice. He aimed a mocking smile at Calen, then whispered, “She’s been like this all morning. I know she’s happy, but by the gods, I wish she could be happy in a less annoying way.”
“I’m in great spirits this morning, Elia. Thank you,” Freis said. A disapproving look let Calen and Rist know that she had heard what Rist said. “It is indeed a proud day for every one of us. Where is Lasch? I would have expected him to be here already.”
“Ah, he is talking with Erdhardt, arranging everything for the festivities. Extra mead from Milltown, some fish from Salme, and I’ve heard rumours that Thorvan might be arriving with his light sticks,” Elia said in a hushed whisper. “And Vars, is he on his way?”
“Aye, he went to check on Tharn and Dann. Ylinda was out early this morning to pick Myril berries to dye her clothes, and you know what those two are like when left on their own.”
Elia raised an all-knowing eyebrow. “Oh, I do, all right. They would sleep right through the entire Proving if left to their own devices.”
“There they are now,” Ella said, an amused tone in her voice. It didn’t take long for Calen to see what had amused her.
Vars, Dann, and Tharn were slogging their way through the crowd. Vars led the way. There was a gingerness in his step and a tentative smile flickered across his face, which threatened to turn into a laugh. Tharn’s mouth was set into a deep scowl as he marched ahead of Dann, turning his head around every few seconds to look behind him, as if he expected Dann to vanish into thin air.
Dann trudged along behind the two men, dragging his feet through the grass as if lifting them to walk was more effort than he could manage. The mead-induced lethargy was evident with every strained movement. His eyes were sunken into deep wells, while his hair and clothes looked like he had slept in – and then been dragged out of – a bush. He let out an exaggerated sigh when they finally stopped in front of the group.
A mocking laugh escaped Rist’s mouth. “Dann, you look fantastic! You must have slept all night!”
Dann snarled, his eyes narrowing and nose scrunching. It seemed all the effort he could muster. His usually quick tongue had deserted him.
“Now, now, boys. Leave Dann alone. Although the hammer pounding inside his head is probably punishment enough, I’m sure Tharn has given him a tongue lashing for the ages,” Freis said with a raised eyebrow. Tharn simply furrowed his brow and let out a frustrated huff of agreement. “Now that we are all here, how are you boys feeling? Have you everything you need?”
“Well, all they’re allowed to bring is a knife and their bows. So, if they forgot anything, then they have more to worry—” A slight raise in Freis’s eyebrow let Ella know to end her sentence there.
“Yes, I’ve got everything,” Calen said.
“Me too. I double-checked before we left the house,” Rist answered.
Tharn elbowed Dann in the ribs, which brought about a sharp grunt.
“I’ve got everything,” Dann coughed.
Tharn reached into a sack he had slung around his back. “I almost forgot. These should fit perfectly. I only finished them the night before last.” From the sack, he pulled two leather belts, handing one each to Rist and Calen.
Calen ran his fingers over the belt. It was a rich umber brown, smooth to the touch and sturdy. Every stitch was neat and as close to perfect as could be. Tharn was widely known as one of the best tanners and leather craftsmen in all the villages. He could have easily sold the belts for two or three silver marks a piece to a trader heading for Gisa or Argona.
“Thank you, Tharn. I don’t—” Calen started.
“Nothing needs be said, Calen,” Tharn said. “We are family, the lot of us. Look after each other in there.”
Calen nodded, immediately fixing the belt around his waist.
The idle chat continued for a while; they discussed what weather to expect over the next three nights, where the boys should set up camp, and other details that they had gone over a hundred times before. Calen’s attention was waning when the crowd shifted towards the podium.
The leaders of each of the seven village councils had assembled atop the podium. Four men and three women, with Erdhardt at their head.
“It is great to see you all here, gathered in such numbers to see our young men off on their rite of passage,” Erdhardt said. “This has long been a tradition in the villages, and I am proud to see it continue.”
Erdhardt stepped back into line with the other elders, giving them each a chance to make a short comment. Each spoke of pride, tradition, and honour; their words mimicked those of the one who spoke before them.
“It is time,” Erdhardt said, when each of the elders had said their piece. His voice rose above the chattering crowd. “Can all the groups please say their goodbyes and then move up to the brazier?”
Calen turned to his mother and father and instantly had the wind knocked out of him as Freis pulled him into a hug so tight that it could have been used to incapacitate a bear. When she finally released him from her clutches, Calen found himself staring at his father. Vars simply placed his hands on Calen’s shoulders and pressed his forehead gently against Calen’s. “I love you, son.” He placed a kiss on the top of Calen’s forehead, and no further words were exchanged.
“Try not to starve yourself in there,” Ella said. “And remember not to let any poison Tharin leaves touch your skin.”
Calen laughed. “Love you too, sis.”
He slowly paced backwards, then turned around. Dann and Rist joined him once they had said their own goodbyes.
“I genuinely wish my mother had even a tiny bit less energy.” Rist laughed. Calen responded with a laugh of agreement while Dann only grunted. “Rough night, Dann? Maybe four or five too many meads?”
“Oh, curse you, Rist. I had planned on going to bed a lot earlier. It was only meant to be one drink.”
“It’s always only one drink with you,” Calen said.
The boys continued to joke together as they approached the brazier that marked the start of The Proving, nodding and saying hello to those they recognised along the way. Calen noticed Kurtis, Fritz, and Dennet Hildom about a hundred paces upward along the line. He felt a slight pulse of anger swell in his chest. He took a few long breaths and focused his attention back towards his friends, who were exchanging insults at their usual pace, with a few delayed responses from Dann. Calen shook his head as he watched the pair of them.
A horn sounded behind them, followed swiftly by a flaming arrow shot overhead, streaking smoke behind it. The arrow landed firmly in the large brazier filled with oil-soaked wood. With a whoosh, the brazier erupted in a burst of flames.
“The Proving begins,” Erdhardt called out.
All along the line, young men advanced towards the forest. Some took a bit more time than others, but eventually followed the lead of those before them.
“Well,” Calen said, letting out a breath that he had held in since the arrow ignited the brazier, “I suppose we’d better get going.”
Rist responded with a quick smile and a nod, swinging his bag over his shoulder. Dann grunted. Calen had a feeling that was the most conversation they were going to get out of him today.
“We should try to find a stream as soon as possible to fill our wat
erskins,” Rist suggested.
Calen nodded; his eyes fixed on the treeline. As they reached the edge of the forest and made their way through its outer rim, Calen felt the familiar weight in the air with every breath he took. The dense moist air pressed down into his lungs. After about half an hour of walking, he began to acclimatise to the sensation a little – but not enough for his liking.
“It’s so strange,” Rist remarked, inhaling deeply.
“What do you mean?” Calen replied as he stumbled over the unearthed root of a gargantuan tree.
“It’s just odd how hard it is to breathe in here. The other woodlands around the villages don’t seem to have the same effect.”
“Well, Therin always tells of how the giants ruled these lands and used magic to build this forest. He said that they used to sing to the trees and that they could create entire groves in just weeks. Maybe it’s magic?”
“Surely you can’t believe those fairy tales, Calen?” There was a mocking look on Rist’s face.
Calen frowned. “You can’t really think that all the legends are lies? All Therin’s stories, just spun on a wheel to entertain people? The Bards always talk about the Circle of Magii in the North, even the ones who call The Order traitors. Are they all lying?”
Rist shrugged. “Maybe?” He pulled his mouth up into a frown. “I don’t know, maybe there is magic somewhere far away from The Glade – and I’m not saying there is – but I can only believe what I can see. Not what some travellers tell us because they want our coin.”
“Oh, will you two shut up?” Dann groaned. “You’re hurting my head. There should be a stream about half an hour’s walk east. If you can be quiet until then, maybe some water might be able to uncloud my head.” Rist and Calen laughed at Dann’s sudden outburst, but agreed to follow him through the dense foliage as he led the way.