by Jordan Cramm
Finally one day though, Wolflen had heard enough about bodies in the woods being carved in a quest to bring him out of the city. He was at Katrina’s house and in the study. He was fully armed and wearing his burnt orange colors, as had become his favorite to wear in Elven territory. She had offered him tea as was custom, and he drank it at once, feeling refreshed from an afternoon of intense training with Jakarta. When he finished his tea, he spoke.
“I am leaving the city tonight.”
She looked up at him with concern in her eyes and asked why he was leaving, and where he was going.
“I won’t let your people continue to get carved up as they are for just being on forest watch and protecting this city, and now me as well. I am going out there tonight, and I pray that Ravenshade finds me. If she does I will be ready.”
Katrina stepped closer to him and put a palmed hand on his chest over his armor, looking up at him with despair in her eyes.
“Baby don’t. She’s a Shadow Knight and a Night Elf. They have a reputation of killing War Mages. And I know your skills have vastly improved since you began, but she is well trained from a lifetime of experiences. No offense but you can’t say the same yet.”
“So what?” Wolflen responded with a hint of desperation and frustration in his voice, “What am I supposed to do—just let more die because of me? I can’t do that Katrina.”
She looked back at him a moment and spoke slowly.
“Wolflen, you are a War Mage. When the time is right, you will command many in battle, and many will die. That is the nature of war. It is a cold truth to know this, but it is a truth you must know if you are to continue. People die in war. The Elves are not angry with you. We have kept this enemy at bay and out of the city. There have been casualties in the forest yes, but we are safe within the city.”
“Are we Katrina?” he asked, “Because I remember when we thought that this Ravenshade would starve within a week and be dead or gone. We were wrong in that assumption. I remember then when we said no way could she last two weeks in the wild. She did just that. We thought no way would three weeks pass with her free and in the forest, but she evaded all attempts at her capture or killing. She attacks at night when her eyes aid her abilities, just like she attacked us when we were camping. So tonight I am going to make it easy for her to find me.”
“I can’t just let you go.” Katrina said, “Because as you just pointed out, everything we thought would be the end of Ravenshade in the woods near here, we were wrong about. Clearly, she is a skilled warrior. Let her wait out there. Let the Elven guards continue their patrols, and eventually we will catch or kill this threat.”
Wolflen shook his head in disagreement.
“No,” he said, “I am ready. Besides, aren’t I the War Mage here? I am doing this tonight Katrina. I don’t expect you to understand, but this is something I have to do.”
~
Night fell and Wolflen watched the Elves at the gates of the city. It was almost time for the change of guard. He approached the new guards as they took their posts and politely spoke with them, telling them that Jakarta had a special mission for them and that they were to go to the Hall of Emerald Shielding to receive their new orders. Of course, the Elves looked skeptical. They said if they left their post, no one would remain to watch the front gates. Wolflen had an answer for that though, telling that that as part of his training as a War Mage, he had been assigned to the main gate. This was at least partially believable, and after talking privately the guards consented to do what Wolflen asked and they began their trip to the Hall of Emerald Shielding while Wolflen watched them move out of sight. Then, he made his move.
Wolflen was outside of the city walls in no time. Outside of the walls and vulnerable. It wasn’t far to the tree line in the distance. It was dark now too, but not terribly late. So Wolflen crept toward the trees as quietly as he could. He had trained stealth and agility in the past weeks, and now he was going to put it to the test. He didn’t quite know what to look for though. He wasn’t skilled at tracking. He decided then that the best way to find his enemy was to let his enemy find him. He thought there was honor in that anyway, in a twisted way. So, when he was away from the city and in the thick of trees, he let out a yell.
“Ravenshade!....Ravenshade come out! It is Wolflen Darkmoon, War Mage of Akartha that summons you! Come out and face me!”
Wolflen scanned the area around him for a few moments, and that’s when he heard some crackling off in the distance. He snapped his gaze in that direction, focusing on the noise that was growing louder, and clearly approaching him. Wolflen stood his ground, still unable to see what moved toward him in the darkness. He guessed that it had to be Ravenshade. So he waited. In a flash of swirling dark tendril, Ravenshade swooped into view at last, her dark colors falling gracefully around her. She wore her face mask again, that kept most of her face covered. But at once she pulled back her hood and then removed the face mask as well. Wolflen stared at her in the very dim light that shone through the trees. He took a deep breath, as though he were staring at the brink of death, and time seemed to stand still a moment as he studied her. He noticed the lavender skin, the blue hair, and small markings on her face that looked like tattoos. He traced her body with his eyes in his mind, but then she spoke and commanded his attention back on her eyes.
“You are either very brave War Mage or very foolish to actually meet me out here. By now I am sure you know that I am well capable of killing.”
Wolflen felt a soft breeze brush across the exposed part of his face.
“But,” she continued, “I see well that you have arisen higher since we last met. I don’t believe you were so armed and protected. But then, I seem to remember that last time, you had friends with you. I see now though that you stand alone.”
Wolflen grinned slightly.
“I came here to put an end to the killing of Elves in this land. I know you are here to kill me, and from what I gather, it is not personal, but rather just a job for you, am I correct in this belief?”
Ravenshade smirked slightly.
“Not that it matters War Mage, but yes you are indeed. Truth be told, I didn’t want to kill the Elves. The fairies well they were just entertainment, but the Elves—that still feels like a betrayal to me to kill them. Once upon a time, they were my brothers after all.”
Wolflen blinked. He began to think he might stand a chance of talking Ravenshade out of her dark intended plans.
“You are Ravenshade I know, and I know your master can be none other than Mortican. Why are you doing this? What has he promised you?”
She blinked. She couldn’t believe a War Mage was actually talking to her and seemed to sincerely care. She could tell somehow that it wasn’t a ploy—he wasn’t distracting her. What he was doing however, was stalling and hoping that answers would come to him about what to do. But she saw no harm in delaying the fate she planned to serve upon him for a brief conversation, so she replied calmly.
“He has promised to help bring the Night Elves back into mainstream; to help us become socially accepted on a wide scale. Why, do you offer better? Can you match his deal?”
Wolflen shook his head humbly. He didn’t know what to say.
“Look, Ravenshade…I am Wolflen Darkmoon of Akartha, as I said before. I am no one of importance in my hometown, and even less important among the Elves. I was chosen to be a War Mage, this much I know. And so here we are. You, for hire on a job and me trying to survive so that I might continue with my destiny; the one you seem to be quite patient to wait for the stopping of. I have no authority among the Elves. As I said, I am unimportant. So I cannot promise you or your race reconciliation with them. I don’t know if the Elves will ever see your kind as more than abominations. What I can say for sure though is that I doubt Mortican will honor his promise either. Ask yourself this, does he share power in his own territory? Does he promise your people land? Suppose you do stop me, and as a result the forces that would stand against Mortican
fall and are swept away by his power. What races then would he rule over if the Elves and Izenians were to fall away? Humans? And what of the Night Elves then?”
“You are just trying to confuse my loyalties War Mage. Mortican is a man of power. You are barely a man at all. You have nothing of value to speak for, no promises you can make that anyone could trust. Tell me, did you promise someone a return from the woods tonight? You should not compare Mortican’s promises to your own, because you will soon know that yours don’t stand up, and long after you bleed out I will take my reward for my service to Mortican, just as he promised.”
Wolflen swallowed hard. His attempts at diplomacy were obviously not getting him anywhere now. Now he realized the magnitude of the situation he was in.
“Well then Ravenshade, let’s get on with it. I am armed and ready. If the Gods are calling me home, I’d hate to be late.”
Chapter 17: The Proposal
Wolflen reached over the top of his head. He pulled his swords free of their holders, bringing them to his fighting stance, igniting the flames at once so the swords blazed to life, and the added light would help him. Ravenshade bowed her head slightly, pulling twin blades of her own, which were also mithril, but which did not glow to life with flame. Wolflen was glad about that fact.
There was a sudden clamor; the sound of sword clash. Boots skidded forwards and back. They sidestepped again and again. Parry, thrust, swing, duck, dodge…it was an elegant dance. Wolflen was thankful to still be in it. But he was also sure that she wasn’t fully trying either. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew. He was losing ground though.
His eyes blinked, and within his mind everything seemed to stop, as though his swordplay were on pause and the world had frozen in time while he had a flashback in his head. He blinked once more and the flashback unfolded before him like something he was witnessing again for the first time.
He was back in the courtyard where he did most of his training; inside Peludeen and the safety of its walls. It was not his day to practice, but a day to rest, for him and Ayvock both. Both had been summoned to the training courtyard at the same time, which did not occur frequently, but for this day, they were to witness Jakarta and Trevel locked in a duel. Swords flew, wiping through the air like a hot knife through butter—with perfect ease. Each step had a counter step. Each move had a counter move, and the Elves made a fight look like some glorious event to behold, and certainly Wolflen thought he might never forget what he was seeing. Jakarta fought with twin blades, but Trevel only with a single sword and in the other hand, a tomahawk.
It was a freestyle match, but the way they moved together, and the way they moved their own bodies made the whole thing look like it had been choreographed and practiced for a hundred years. But every move was a fresh idea from the one who made it. Every counter was the result of trained instincts, quick reaction time, and agility that had been perfected through experience. It was truly amazing to watch. Had either of them fought against an untrained warrior, the fight would have likely ended quickly. But this was different. Each swung their weapons over and over again. But each strike was blocked, and the next blocked in turn. So while the strikes were impressive, the most impressive part of the battle was the way it seemed to be an endless standoff where no one could possibly win against the other. In fact Wolflen wondered more than once how neither one suffered crippling fatigue as they swung their weapons again and again as they did.
The dance between Jakarta and Trevel continued long after Wolflen’s leg fell asleep as he sat there watching it in the courtyard. Wolflen shifted his weight and position three different times to wake his leg up again, and still Jakarta and Trevel delicately danced the game of swordplay. Wolflen couldn’t help but be continuously impressed, and he began to see why Ayvock had always so passionately strove to be a Knight. Two of the best among the Elves proved just how amazing the lifestyle could be.
At last, Jakarta saw the proper opening and managed to come around with his sword, stopping just at Trevel’s neck. Jakarta clearly had a death blow to win, but to Wolflen’s surprise, Trevel had stopped just short of Jakarta’s exposed ribs with his tomahawk, and he too would have had a fatal blow had he not stopped his weapon. Jakarta and Trevel stepped backwards, bowed to one another with a bright smile, and then turned toward their students.
Moments later, Wolflen was commenting to Jakarta about how amazing the match moments before was. He said he was amazed at how long Jakarta could swing his swords and Jakarta responded politely.
“Sometimes, the only difference between winning and losing is whether or not you continue the battle when the opponent cannot. Sometimes your enemy will tire. Always strive to outlast your enemy, but also know when you are outmatched. When fatigue shows you that you will lower your guard involuntarily before your enemy does, then try something else. Move away or use magic. But a true sword master can swing their weapons all day long without stopping.”
Suddenly the flashback faded, and what Wolflen saw now was the business end of a sword blade swipe just inches from his eye, sweeping from side to side across his face and just barely missing. He remembered what his mentor said, and he knew he was fighting against a superior swordsmen. He began to wish that he hadn’t been so hasty to enter the woods and face his enemy so early. But he wasn’t ready to give up either. Suddenly a sword struck him across the chest. The armor took most of the shot, but his chest was cut open enough to bleed. Wolflen quickly stepped back, stunned by the sudden shock of pain and warm blood flow down his stomach.
He looked at Ravenshade who simply paced back and forth now, eagerly waiting for the moment when Wolflen engaged in the fight once more, but pacing so arrogantly that it nearly made Wolflen sick to think he was being toyed with now. He spun his swords, hyping himself up for another attack. This time though, he called upon magic too. He at once tried to begin the fight again with a shock of telekinetic force, and it worked too. In fact it sent Ravenshade sailing backwards and crashing into the nearest tree. She struck the tree hard, and took a moment of her own to pause and regroup.
“Nicely done War Mage. But you will have to do much better than that…”
Her swords swung at him again, and again he did his best to doge and strike. Still, he had the growing feeling that he was losing. So, he took another idea to mind.
As their swords clashed again, each crossed in midair, she taunted him again, reminding him of how alone he was. He had it in mind to use a fire spell, but she blocked it with a magical shield of her own as they stood there. He tried to separate her from him with another blast of telekinetic force, but she managed to block that spell too. So he used brute strength. He was a young Izenian, but he knew he was still Izenian. So at once he pushed his weight into her, sending her to the ground sliding backwards.
He pursued, but carefully. His instincts told him not to get too cocky. He swung at her on the ground, but she rolled and kicked at him, sending him staggering backwards as she got to her feet. Then Wolflen got another idea. He extinguished the flames on both swords at once, and sheathed them quickly. Then from each hand he had formed magical crescent-shaped shields that he swung by moving his arms around in several directions. This backed Ravenshade up quite effectively, but Wolflen made the mistake of thinking he was starting to win the battle. He completely ignored the warning that Katrina had once given him about using his magical shields in such a fashion.
One of his shields struck a tree and the tree did not budge. Instead, the shield of magic stuck into the tree but did not cut through all the way, and this caused Wolflen’s own arm to suffer a violent, bone jarring jerk. He heard a snap and instantly as the pain struck him, his other magical shield collapsed as he staggered backwards, holding his broken arm and stumbling to the ground.
Ravenshade began to laugh and she circled her prey. She felt that her victory was at hand. She taunted Wolflen now, calling him a fool for coming out of the city at all, but even more of a fool for trying to win a fight with magical sh
ields. She said that Wolflen must be a weak War Mage if he tried using magical shields as his primary weapon in the battle. She mockingly asked Wolflen if he had anything he wanted to say before death. Wolflen clutched his arm and grinned.
“That’s the difference between us Ravenshade. I came here alone tonight, but in this life, I am never alone…”
The realization hit her far too late, and even Wolflen did not understand how it was possible. But Sespa barreled out of nowhere and struck into Ravenshade, knocking her weapons away and pinning her to the ground. Wolflen was helped to his feet by Jakarta and Katrina, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere with a detachment of guards, and also with Ayvock, who was dressed in his full armor suit.
“Kill her!” Jakarta ordered.
Sespa looked toward Wolflen for his orders.
“No!” Ayvock said.
Everyone looked at Ayvock. He realized he wouldn’t have a rational reason to spare Ravenshade’s life. He knew that the Elves would not understand his compassion or attraction for Ravenshade. He looked at Wolflen, hoping that the words of the War Mage would spare Ravenshade’s life.
“Let her live. We will take her as a prisoner. I have spoken with this one before our battle. There are things which you do not know—any of you. Until you are all aware of the situation, she must live. Jakarta, this one has magic that is very powerful I believe. Can these men overcome it should she try to escape or fight free?”
Wolflen asked. Jakarta seemed pleased with the question and eager to respond.
“Let her try and escape. I won’t have to let her live anymore if she does. Well you all heard the War Mage. We take her prisoner!”
Elves sprang forth from places Wolflen hadn’t even seen. Bows were holding arrows, while other guards held swords, and a few magic casters there were awaiting an attempted escape. Katrina shook her head in disapproval but was more concerned with Wolflen’s injuries. He told her that he was cut on the chest, and he was certain that his arm was broken.