Under The Elven Sky (Fengysha Series Book 1)

by Jordan Cramm

  Freedom. Wolflen heard the words in his head; the litany new to him, quoted to him in his mind before he spoke them softly aloud.

  “To be a War Mage is to pursue freedom. To be free is to be. To be any other way is contrary to how you should be...”

  Ayvock did not yet understand what Wolflen was saying, so Wolflen expounded further.

  “I am not to be a Free Mage Ayvock—I am a War Mage...or I could be. And that is something altogether separate.”

  It hadn't taken Wolflen long to tell his friend Ayvock everything he knew about being a War Mage. That was in part, because Wolflen himself didn't know much; no one seemed to. But it was also because he spoke quickly, and finally he spoke of his plan. He had to get to Elven lands, and learn whatever he could about becoming a War Mage. He wasn't sure it’s what he wanted to become exactly, but he had to know for sure. He also intended to move quickly. Already, Wolflen was certain that his parents would have the local guard out looking for him. He believed to avoid future harm to anyone, that he would have to leave Akartha, and quickly. He told Ayvock that Haven was the destination. Wolflen would go there and prepare for a journey to Elven lands from there. That was his plan. Wolflen said he would remain there for a week after his arrival, which would likely be in two-days’ time. He begged that Ayvock meet him there at the Mammoth Lodge to venture into the world with Wolflen. If Ayvock could not make it, he was to send a letter, and if no letter came by the time Wolflen was to leave, he would take that as a further sign, and leave alone, questing after what perhaps did not exist in the world still.

  Wolflen's first stop was in Akartha. He found an Izenian horse trader and asked after a good animal. The trader informed him that at the moment, all that was available was a war horse, accustomed to moving quickly, and not always the smoothest of rides. Wolflen didn't care. He needed a horse and it had to be fast. Besides, he thought it to be funny irony to be riding out from Akartha on an old war horse on an errand to discover more about being a War Mage. So after he purchased the horse and saddle, Wolflen pulled himself onto its back and ran through town. He had just one more stop to make.

  Near the gates of the city that led to the vast open tundras beyond, Wolflen stopped his ride and dismounted near one of the large merchant cabins of the city. Here in the northern part of the city, cabin houses were everywhere, and merchant shops of the like were no different. He entered one, where he purchased another large pack for his back, some bread and water, tea leaves, and also a warm fur coat, gloves and a pair of fur socks. After paying, he realized that he had worked through much of his silver coins, and though he had both gold and platinum coins with him, he thought about making another stop. So when he left the merchant cabin, he brought his horse to another, and entered after tying his horse up to the cabin porch.

  Wolflen had never been in the northern bank of Akartha before. But he was there now. He stepped forward to one of the tellers and was able to make a withdrawal from his account. He knew most of the money within it had been for trade school, as well as allowance money from youth past. But he had no idea how much he might need on the road. He had never attempted anything like this before, nor heard of anyone who had. After he was finished, he half expected one of the bankers to try and stop him. Surely they would have had to use magic portal communication with his normal bank in Akartha to verify that funds were available and to transfer them. And after doing so, Wolflen surely would have been marked as being on the run. Or maybe not. You never told your parents you were leaving. Damn. You should. You know you should. In Haven...That gives you two days head start.

  The banks of Fengysha all used one globalized currency for the most part. That made some of the banking duties streamlined, as well as keeping things easy for merchants and employers. But besides that, many of the good races of Fengysha had also long ago implemented a magical network among several banks in major cities. This network allowed magical communication from one city to another through magic portals, which could also be used to pass currency or even items through from one place to another. This meant that Wolflen could withdraw his bank money from any bank within the network in any city. It also meant that he could store items within the banks as well (for a charge of course) and that he could retrieve them from any bank on the network. But it also meant that if other banks were notified that Wolflen was on the run, they might be alerted by his transfer of funds now. But he had no choice—on the journey ahead, he wasn’t sure how often he would be able to access what he needed.

  He left the bank, realizing that he was not as marked as he thought he might be. His parents were probably just now searching for him over at Ayvock's house. Wolflen was sure that Ayvock would not betray his trust regarding the journey ahead, and how it would start from Haven. Of all the uncertainties, Wolflen could count on Ayvock backing him up at least. He only hoped now that Ayvock would be able to journey with him, but he quickly realized that it was not going to happen that way. Ayvock was bound for the Knight's Guild soon. He wouldn't be allowed to journey away with Wolflen at such a time, and besides, in order to do so, he would have to tell his father where he intended to journey to, and that news would then get back to Wolflen's parents most likely. That presented two problems...the first was that Wolflen would be journeying alone. The second was that if Wolflen didn't write a letter to his parents soon, they would learn of their son's journey from Ayvock's father. So, Wolflen knew he had roughly three days in which to get a letter to his parents—that is, if he were going to notify them first. With that knowledge, he stopped one more place in Akartha. It was a messenger service post. There, Wolflen drafted a quick letter to his parents.

  The letter was brief and vague. Wolflen felt it was best to keep it so until he knew more himself. He told his parents in the letter that he intended to find out what was happening—that he was sorry for the outburst at home, and that he believed it had to do with the War Magic. He reiterated that he felt chosen to be a War Mage, even though he did not know exactly what that was, or how to be one, and he also stated that he needed to find answers that he now believed to exist only in Elven lands. Then he ended the letter with a promise to write more letters in the future to keep in touch. Then he sealed it, gave it to the messenger watchmen, and left instructions for it to be delivered in two days’ time.

  Then, he rode out of Akartha, suddenly realizing that if the War Magic held dangers that the name implied, it might be some time before he saw his home city once more. So outside the city gates, he paused and turned to look at it once more, and inwardly he hoped it would not be for the last time.

  Chapter 4: Destiny’s Journey

  Wolflen's ride took him over frosty snow-covered dunes; traveling northwest for most of the first day before turning west all together. The snow, which had fallen heavily in the early part of his journey, had let up, and above him was a nice evening sky, free of clouds, but hosting the glow of two separate moons. One was closer than the other, and they created a magnificent glow over everything. He had stopped for a rest in a wet forest of evergreens. Spattered snow was on the ground, but much of it was melted in the warmer area. He knew he was not far from Haven. He looked around him as he dismounted among the evergreen forest that glistened with moisture and serenity.

  He had kept the road at a distance, just in case anyone had wanted to follow him. He knew it was probably just paranoia to think that way, but if anyone did follow him, he wasn't hoping to be returned to Akartha. He had made up his mind. What happened at home with the table and the door could not become a regular occurrence. He needed more information about what a War Mage was, and whether or not he would willingly choose to become one. He refused to let anyone stop him now. He led his horse to a spring that was not terribly far from the road itself. And he let the horse drink from a standing pool of water while he rummaged through his pack for some bread and water for himself.

  His water was kept in bottles of Izenian glass, which was rumored to be the strongest type of glass on Fengysha, and in one
of them, he had added some tea leaves earlier in the day. Now he knew, it would be ready to drink, so he pulled the cork from the bottle top and drank it. He had been riding for quite a while, so it was refreshing to drink, even out in the cold. After drinking, he corked the bottle once more, saving the rest for later. He returned it to the pack, and hung the pack once more over his saddle. Then he pulled back his hood from his fur coat and began looking around. He heard something in the distance, but wasn't sure what it was. So he looked, and off to the east, he saw herds of large, wild caribou running as a group. Wolflen continued watching, wondering if the herd was moving to a water source, or if something had spooked them. Perhaps they were crossing terrain to settle somewhere. Wolflen could only wonder though, until in the distance behind the herd he saw something even larger. It was a Dire wolf, and Wolflen knew that they stood between six and ten feet tall normally, and were normally the size of large horses from Izenian lands.

  Dire wolves were fast; fast and dangerous Wolflen knew. So rather than wait around to be a tempting meal for the Dire hunter, Wolflen got back into his saddle once more, and led his horse in the opposite direction, but keeping an eye on the animals in the distance all the while. He gripped the knife in his belt, hoping he wouldn't have to use it. He wasn't completely stupid with a knife; at sea he had used it a time or two, even in battle. But it was no broad sword either, and anything trained to kill would easily overcome him he knew.

  His hands were cold. He knew he had to keep moving. He was becoming overwhelmed with fatigue though. He hadn't slept a wink the night before, and in a weird way he had been grateful for the cold he faced on his journey so far. It helped keep him awake, but he had grown numb to it. He knew he was making good time though. It wasn't his first trip to Haven. He had been there with his parents several times by way of wagon, and even he and Ayvock had traveled there one summer when the winter was mild enough for their parents to allow it. So as Wolflen rode on, he knew he could reach Haven before the latest night chimes. Most travelers made the journey in two days’ time, but only because they didn't have their horse at a run the entire way. Wolflen did though, and he knew he would be there soon. He also knew he had to be. Sleep would take him soon.

  His eyelids got heavier with every hoof print left in the mud. He was tired, cold, and achy. His stomach growled, and he knew he would soon need a warm meal and good drink if he had any hope of regaining his energy. He did not despair long though, because soon his horse left not only prints in snow, but also in muddy, wet ground. By this time of year, Haven would be warm.

  He rode until it was dark, and by then his fur coat was off and tied up to the saddlebags. Wolflen had little trouble at maneuvering his horse, and as darkness broke across the land, he had moved very close to the road. He didn't know his way in the dark, and by now, he was relatively certain that he had not been followed out of the northern gate of Akartha.

  Suddenly, ahead in the distance he heard the chimes of Haven ringing across the land. It was a most welcomed sound. He counted each chime until they stopped at eight. So its eight chimes. Not bad on time then. Wolflen continued to ride hard, until at last the large wall surrounding Haven was visible in the light of its torches and lanterns. Guards stood on the wall, some were Izenian, and some were Elven. In fact that's why he had chosen Haven; from Haven he intended to reach Elven lands, but IN Haven, he intended to first find out what cities would be best to venture to in Elven lands. He knew that because Haven was a jointly-held city by Izenians and Elves; that he could find Elves there to speak to.

  He kept riding hard until he reached the gates. He was allowed to pass the guards there, being Izenian and by not being a threat to their eyes. As he entered the city, he did his best to remember his way through it. He decided to find lodging first, so after asking directions twice, he was able to find the Mammoth Lodge. In Haven, the air was nearly 55 degrees, and the sky was clear. Wolflen looked up at the stars as he tied up his horse at the Mammoth Lodge stable. Then he slung his saddle, and his packs over his shoulder, feeling their weight as he did. He took those things at once to his inn room. He didn't even bother looking around in the room, which was on the third floor. Instead, he unlocked the door with his key, entered the dark room without a candle or lantern, and he threw his things in a heap on the floor in the darkness. Then he shut the door once more, and locked it again, stepping back to the hallway.

  He knew what he was doing by going to tavern row for a meal and drinks. He was allowed to drink now, and he remembered the place from prior visits to Haven. Tavern row was so called because of the many breweries that were in a 1,500 foot stretch of road. Here though he knew, things could get dangerous. Elves didn't come here he noticed. The patrons of this area were all Izenian. Some seemed to be hanging out together and just talking in the open, while others were pushing their way into various taverns. A select few were even fighting in the street. Apparently here, brawling and dueling were not things punished by the local guard.

  Wolflen pulled the hood up on his robe and walked into one of the taverns, sitting alone at a booth in a darkened corner. Except to be served, he hoped to be left alone to his thoughts, and to his surprise, he was. The Izenian waitress, who looked like she had fit herself into clothing that was two sizes too small for her, waited on him fairly, but was not too concerned with making any small talk, which suited Wolflen just fine. He was also relieved that no one questioned him when he ordered a bottle of Honey Mead to drink. He wondered if he looked old enough, or if age simply didn't matter in tavern row. He didn't bother asking.

  He mowed down on the meal, a nice hearty steak with some potatoes and some warm bread to go with it. He ate every last bite, and then even had a piece of fruit brought to him for desert. He ate that just as heartily and drank his Honey Mead. The effects of the drink seemed to ease the tension in his muscles from a long day of riding, and it shook the cold off him quickly enough, but it also reminded him how sleepy he was. He decided he could wait until the next day to begin asking questions of anyone, and so after paying his tab, he left the tavern.

  As he neared the end of tavern row, Wolflen heard someone screaming in the alley between the brick buildings. He looked down the alleyway to see two Izenian grown adult males shoving an Elven woman against the back alley wall. The Elven woman had cried out for help. Wolflen marched closer in a huff, and realized that his temper now was toward the attackers. He hadn't even given the matter serious thought until at last in the darkness he could see that they each had a sword in hand and were telling the woman to remove her clothing. She brandished a sword of her own though, and had it drawn. Wolflen quickly realized he had acted too hastily, because he had no great sword, only his dagger in his belt. Just the same he drew it at once, and then he shouted.

  “Leave her alone!”

  What were you thinking Wolflen? The attackers and the Elven female stared down the alley at him. The two attackers did not seem to be threatened at all, but rather amused that a young lad would interfere in their affairs. They grinned at each other, and one nodded to the other before turning to face Wolflen.

  The attacker advanced toward him while the other seemed to be in a standoff with the woman. Wolflen was already questioning his sanity and wondered if any other bystanders would hear if he screamed. He knew none would though. He and the woman, whoever she was, were alone in that alley now. How he managed to get into the position he wondered. He was scared now, but knew he had only seconds to decide on a plan of action. Soon, if he decided wrongly, he would be seeing his own blood spilled in the streets of Haven—a dark alley of Haven to be exact. He didn't care too much for that idea. He did the first thing that came to mind. He was skeptical as to how successful his plan would be. He may have been right to despair suddenly.

  He saw the attacker draw near with sword in hand, looking sharp. He wondered though if its sharpness mattered, and guessed that the attacker had enough strength to put a very dull blade through Wolflen's body. After all, Wolflen was young,
inexperienced in battle, and to his sudden realization, without armor. But his plan began simply. He was winging it.

  He let out a scream of a yell and charged the attacker himself, with only his short dagger drawn for its purpose. He dodged the first sword strike as though it were a child's game. And while Wolflen did not believe with certainty that he could overcome his attacker with weaponry, he was sure he could win the battle of dodging blows. The swipe went over his head quickly as he ducked and moved forward. Then from a crouched position behind the attacker, he drove the dagger into the attacker's calf, so far pierced that the attacker fell over and Wolflen quickly continued onward without the dagger. For his next feat, he swiftly rushed the other attacker who still faced the strange Elven woman. Wolflen grabbed at the attacker's shoulders with both hands and forcefully slammed him backwards to the ground, his head hitting brick, creating an instant pool of blood. Wolflen only needed a few blinks of his eyes afterwards to know that the battle was over.

  How did I do that? He felt his heart rate within himself, and it seemed to slow to a normal calm rhythm. He wondered what had just happened and then he saw a slow motion replay of the events in his mind. He blinked once more, realizing that the Elven woman he faced was thanking him heartily after sheathing her sword.

  “You saved my life. Who are you?”

  Wolflen blinked once more and then turned to look at her after he was sure that the other attacker would not be getting up to continue the fight.

  “I...” he started, “I am Wolflen Darkmoon of Akartha. I don't know what just happened but please don't report this to guards in town.”

  The Elven woman smiled.

  Her hair was a fiery burnt orange color, her face white and fair like an Elf. Her features were inviting and her eyes, they were soft and looking at them as she spoke brought comfort to Wolflen, though he didn't know why.