PURE OF HEART

by Christopher Greyson

  “Do not you get it?” She stepped forward so she was now toe-to-toe with him again. “The Kilacouquen will fight. They will lose. My father told me this. The enemy has too many numbers. Our men will die, and then the Krulgs will come. I will fight then because there will be no more men left to tell me I can’t. I will die with a spear in my hands. One way or another, I will die like a warrior. Your way, I die here, with the women and children. But I am still dead. It is you who doesn’t get it.”

  Dean stared down at the girl who coldly glared back at him. Her green eyes searched his face for a moment more before she turned and stomped out of the stable. Dean looked out into the darkness while her words echoed in his head. He pulled the pitchfork out of the ground and leaned it against the wall.

  He took his time walking back. When he entered the room, Manitu waved him over to the head table.

  Ahulata motioned for Dean to take his place next to him. “It is time for your decision.”

  Manitu walked over to the wall and took a polished silver horn down and raised it to his lips. He blew three long, loud blasts that were not necessary, for after the first all conversation had ceased.

  “Lords of the Woods,” Manitu’s voice boomed, “Dean Theradine has decided.”

  Dean swallowed and stood. He looked over the hall filled with mighty warriors. There were men here tonight whose acts of bravery and strength were legendary. He looked from the warrior who claimed the title of the best swordsman, to the fastest, and to another who killed over a dozen Krulgs that morning.

  The Elf to his right jumped to his feet. He was the tallest and the strongest in the room, and now he strode up to the table. “I have not spoken.” The Elf’s voice boomed across the room. “Everyone knows I am the best warrior in the village. The right is mine to claim. I choose me. Does anyone challenge?” His eyes swept the room but no one said anything. The Elf turned back to Dean. He looked Dean up and down and frowned. “It is decided. I will lead you to Naviak.” He grinned smugly as he walked around the table to stand with Dean and the others.

  Dean raised his hand. “Hold up. Sorry to burst your bubble, but you don’t make the decisions. I pick the guy.”

  The Elf scoffed. “Look. There is no one else.” His hand fanned out toward the hall.

  Dean looked out at the warriors. Their eyes were cast down at the floor and they shifted uncomfortably. No one challenged the huge Elf.

  “It’s still my pick. Thanks for your offer, but I pick her.” Dean pointed to the green-eyed Elf in the back of the room.

  Everyone looked at the girl, and her mouth fell open.

  “I didn’t see that coming,” Bravic mumbled.

  “She’s not a warrior,” screamed one Elf.

  “She’s a servant,” another cried.

  “She’s nothing but a girl,” a third scoffed.

  “She is a Kilacouquen,” Ahulata growled as he rose to his feet. The room fell into silence. “And she is the one the bearer of the sword of Panadur has chosen. Come here.” He nodded, and the girl hurried forward. “Dean has chosen Oieda Halotic to be one of his company. It is decided.”

  An awkward silence fell on the room. No one moved. From the end of the hall, the drunken Elf stood up and swayed against the archway. “She’s not the best warrior. She’s a nursemaid to crippled animals.” He sneered as he staggered forward.

  “I am the best warrior.” The huge Elf grabbed Dean’s shoulder, and Bravic put his hand on his axe.

  “Kecheta, hold your tongue,” Ahulata commanded.

  “I challenge this so-called warrior,” Kecheta continued. “I challenge her for the right to be the chosen. I challenge her to a duel with swords.”

  The room was silent. The warriors murmured among themselves.

  Dean looked to Bravic and Han, but they turned up their hands, unsure what to do.

  “I’ve made my choice, and I’ll not change it,” Dean snarled as he glared at Kecheta.

  “It is his right to challenge,” Ahulata said.

  Dean drew his sword. “Then he duels me.”

  Ahulata shook his head. “That is not our way. You cannot interfere, son of Panadur. But, the choice of the contest is not yours to pick, Kecheta. It is the challenged’s right to pick what form the challenge will be.”

  “Wait a minute. Oieda can pick the contest?” Dean asked.

  Ahulata nodded.

  Dean leaned closer to Oieda, despite the fact that she looked as though she wanted to bite his face off. “You said you were the best with the spear, right?” He smiled.

  Her hands balled into fists. “I said that there was only one person better.”

  Dean’s smile fell. “Don’t tell me it’s him.” He tilted his head back at Kecheta.

  Oieda nodded and pressed her lips together.

  Dean exhaled. “You can hunt?”

  “Yes. So.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Can you? Are you good?”

  “Very.”

  Dean leaned closer and whispered something in Oieda’s ear. The Elf tilted her head, and a slight smile spread across her lips.

  She looked up and spoke. “I accept the challenge. It will be in the form of a hunt. The first person to bring back a fox will be the winner.”

  “A fox?” spat Kecheta. “A warrior hunting a fox?” The whole room erupted into howls of laughter. “No. If you will not fight me—” Kecheta stopped talking and the corner of his mouth curled up. “We hunt wolves.”

  “Fine. A wolf.” Oieda growled, her anger rising.

  “The competition is decided,” Ahulata proclaimed. “The first warrior to bring back a wolf will be the victor. Let the competition begin now.”

  Dean grabbed Oieda by her arm, but she yanked it free.

  “Hold up,” he whispered. “Did you see the smug grin on his face? He has an ace up his sleeve.”

  “What?” She looked at Dean like he had two heads.

  “He’s got an angle.” Dean stepped so close he was cheek to cheek with her. “He picked the wolf for a reason. He’s working some angle; I could see it in his face. Be ready for some trick.”

  “I don’t need your worry.” She spun on her heels and ran from the hall.

  Kecheta laughed as he walked over to a table to get his mug and strutted haughtily after her. Dean and the others raced outside to wait and see which warrior would be the first to return.

  Oieda dashed down the road and disappeared into the dark forest.

  “That fool girl hunting a wolf.” Kecheta laughed. “Now I won’t have to kill her. The wolves will do it for me.”

  “Big talk from a big oaf,” Han scoffed as he glared up at him.

  “You little—” Kecheta began to say, but seeing Bravic and Dean put their hands on their weapons cut him off.

  “Your fight is with the wolf, Kecheta.” Ahulata motioned down the road.

  “I will fight it with my own hands.” Kecheta glared at Han.

  “Oh, I was hoping that you’d fight it with your face,” Han sneered.

  Dean smirked but his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword as he watched Kecheta’s face turn a dark crimson. Cursing and mumbling, Kecheta turned and jogged down the road.

  ****

  Oieda moved as silently as the shadows that clung to the trees. Her keen eyes searched the ground for any trace of passage. The underbrush was thin, and the rocks on either side made this the perfect trail for wolves to travel. There were many tracks, but after a few moments she found fresh ones. Her fingers traced the outline of an enormous wolf’s paw print.

  Noiselessly, she bounded after them. The blood raced in her veins, and her heart pounded in her ears. She followed the tracks to a small alcove between two hills. Looking at the opening, she saw the wolf had gone in but had not yet come back out. She moved behind a tall boulder and unslung her father’s spear from her back. Then she crouched down and waited.

  ****

  Kecheta walked down the paths that twisted through the forest. He moved deliberat
ely, because he knew exactly where he was going. He climbed to the top of a mound and looked down to its hollow center. At the bottom, he could see the cage trap that he’d set days before.

  For the Kilacouquen, trapping was illegal, but that didn’t stop Kecheta from doing it. The Elves respected the animals and hunted them accordingly. But Kecheta didn’t care whether a creature suffered; he thought only of himself. Setting traps was the lazy hunter’s way, and he always picked the path of least resistance. The trap he’d forgotten to check on might bring him fame and money now. After he slid down into the wide depression, he could see a form in the cage.

  “A pup.” He spat as he moved closer and saw the little brown wolf huddled in the back of the cage whimpering. “Pup or not, it’s a wolf.” Kecheta smiled as he drew his spear.

  ****

  Oieda froze as she heard the wolf approach. Without a sound, she raised her spear and held it above her head, poised to strike. She could hear her heartbeat, but she concentrated on the soft sound of the wolf as it trotted out of its den.

  As the giant wolf’s brown head appeared, Oieda gritted her teeth, but the spear remained at its zenith. She could not strike. The wolf scampered sideways and turned to look at her. Coal black, cold eyes searched her face, but the wolf didn’t run away.

  Oieda slowly lowered her spear. She squatted down and dropped the weapon to the ground. The wolf tilted its head. Oieda reached out her hand. The wolf growled, and its teeth flashed. Oieda whispered softly to it, and the growling stopped. After another moment, it sat back on its haunches as it continued to watch the Elf.

  Oieda exhaled and walked slowly forward until her hand touched the brown fur of the wolf’s neck. She gently scratched its head and spoke softly to it. Sighing, she looked into the beast’s big brown eyes. “I cannot kill you,” she said aloud. “Now Kecheta will win.”

  Oieda stood and walked back to the city with her head held down.

  ****

  Kecheta eyed the frightened little wolf with a wicked gleam in his eye. He thrust the tip of his spear in the cage and watched the pup knock it aside with its paw. Repeatedly he poked at the wolf; each time, he thrust harder than before. Then, with a slight laugh, he stood and slammed the spear against the cage. The wolf huddled in the back and howled a pitiful, little howl, like a baby calling for its mother.

  “What’s the matter, wolf? Should I just kill you right now and not make you suffer?” Kecheta smashed the top of the cage with his fist. “You were dumb enough to fall into my trap, so you should pay. I think I have waited too long already. That stupid girl might get lucky—”

  Kecheta jumped back as two glowing eyes appeared at the top of the ridge. A howl that split through the night echoed down to him. As the gigantic wolf raced down the slope, Kecheta threw his spear too soon. The weapon smashed harmlessly against a tree. Kecheta reached for his sword. From all around the woods, howls filled the night, and many more wolves appeared.

  Screaming in fear, he raced over to a tree and grabbed a low branch. As he pulled himself up, the branch creaked and groaned beneath his weight. The jaws of the wolves snapped and clamped beneath him. He reached up for the only higher branch that was near but as he did, the one he was on cracked loudly, and he moved closer to the ground. Closer to the wolves.

  The largest wolf sprang up. Its teeth flashed and its jaws just missed his thigh.

  “Help,” he cried out. “Help!”

  Suddenly the wolves stopped jumping and stared at him. They snarled and their jaws clacked as they bit the air.

  “So the pig has been treed?” Oieda laughed as she walked around the hill.

  Kecheta looked in disbelief from the wolves to the thin girl. “Oieda, help me,” he pleaded.

  “Help you?” Oieda saw the cage and her eyes narrowed. “Now it’s your turn to feel what it’s like to be trapped. I don’t want to aid you at all.”

  “Oieda, I’ll do anything that you want. Name it. Please.” Kecheta shrieked as the branch moved even closer to the ground.

  “Why? Why should I not let these wolves rip your body into pieces?”

  “Please, Oieda. I’m sorry. Please.” Kecheta wept.

  “Give me your word you’ll never harm another animal out of hate as long as you live. Give me your word as a Kilacouquen.”

  Kecheta stared for a moment at the cold green eyes that stared back at him. “I give you my word,” he said quietly.

  “Go,” Oieda growled.

  ****

  Dean paced back and forth as he waited in the square. He’d lost track of the time but was sure it had been many hours since they’d left. Bravic and Han sat on a bench. The Elvana frequently jumped up and looked down the empty street.

  Finally, there was a call from down the road. Everyone stood. In the torchlight, they could see a form walk down the center of the street with his head held low. As he came closer, they could see it was Kecheta. Kecheta walked up to Ahulata with his head hung low and stood, unmoving.

  Ahulata’s eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together. “Why do you return without a wolf?” he demanded.

  “I failed in my hunt. I have lost. The girl has won.” Kecheta kept his head down, but he looked up to meet Ahulata’s gaze.

  “Hurray,” Han cheered.

  Ahulata raised his hand. “The competition is not over. Oieda has not returned.” He turned back to Kecheta. “Again, I ask you why you return with nothing.” There was now anger in his voice.

  “I threw my spear in haste and missed my wolf. As I went to take my sword, I found myself in the middle of a hunting pack. I had to climb a tree or be killed,” Kecheta said bitterly.

  “So the big brave warrior hides up in a tree like a chicken,” Han cheerfully said.

  “How did you get away?” Ahulata interjected. A brief smile appeared on his face.

  “The girl saved me,” Kecheta mumbled.

  “Oieda? How did she—” Ahulata’s words were cut off by a shout from up the street.

  As everyone turned, they could see Oieda walk down the road. There was a collective gasp from the crowd. Oieda strode down the street, surrounded by a pack of wolves. Mothers pulled little children back inside, and even grown warriors backed away.

  “That is awesome,” Han cried out.

  “Wolves in this world are way bigger than in mine.” Dean took a step back. “They’re as tall as a pony.”

  “What I would give to ride one.” Han clapped his hands together.

  Ahulata stepped forward and silence descended upon the square. “I declare Oieda the winner of the challenge. She has earned the right to accompany the son of Panadur on his quest to defeat Volsur.”

  Oieda turned to the huge, brown wolf. She scratched it behind its ear, and it affectionately licked her face. She touched her forehead to the wolf’s then the pack turned and ran back toward the woods. Before they disappeared into the night, the grand wolf stopped and stared back at Oieda. It howled a heart-stirring call and then vanished into the blackness.

  “Is she Doctor Dolittle or what?” Dean smiled. “Ask her to bring back a wolf, and she brings back the whole pack.”

  “That was a lot.” Han gave Dean a little shove.

  “What?”

  “You should call her Doctor do lots, not Doctor do little. What’s a doctor anyway?”

  “No. I meant . . . there’s this guy who talks to the animals . . . oh, skip it,” Dean said, frustrated, as he moved toward Oieda.

  “He always says that,” Han whispered loudly to Bravic.

  “Glad you can join us, Oieda.” Dean held out his hand.

  Oieda opened her mouth and quickly closed it. She stared at Dean for a moment and crossed her right arm over her chest. “I will not fail you.” She dropped to one knee and bowed. “My life is yours to use.”

  “Okay . . .” Dean looked awkwardly around. “Seriously, you’re helping me out, so stop kneeling like that.”

  Oieda nodded and rose. Bravic and Han came over and shook her hand.
>
  “I have lots of questions—” Han said, but Ahulata walked over and cut him off.

  “I’m sure you do, little Elvana, but it is now very late. You all must get an early start tomorrow,” Ahulata said. “All that you need will be supplied for you, but for now, go to bed.”

  The older leader bowed slightly and turned away. Manitu came to his side, along with another Elf. As the crowd dispersed, the companions went to their room.

  After Dean washed up, he came out and saw Han and Oieda sitting and talking.

  “Dean,” Han called. “We just finished telling Oieda about our journey up to now. When Bravic comes back, he wants to sing a song.” He rolled his eyes. “But, I told him that you had to sing your song first because we’ve never heard one of your songs, and we’ve heard lots of Bravic’s.”

  “Me? No way. It’s the new guy’s turn.” Dean jerked his thumb at Oieda.

  “I am not singing.” She frowned. “Han said you.”

  “I don’t do everything Han says.” Dean lay down on the bed. “Besides, isn’t there some Elven custom where you have to be a good host and sing?”

  “No,” she snapped.

  Bravic walked back in the room. “I’m ready to sing.”

  Han looked desperately at Oieda, but she shook her head. Han sighed. “It’s okay, Oieda.” He crossed his legs on the bed. “Some people are afraid of singing.” Han almost fell over when she glared at him.

  “I am not afraid.” She closed her eyes. Then she sang:

  In the forest of Kilacouqua, we are at home.

  In the forest of Kilacouqua, we will always roam.

  Our spears are lightning,

  Our horses thunder,

  Our cries the wind,

  Crushing all foes asunder.

  Under the boughs of Kilacouqua, with a harp in our hands.

  Under the boughs of Kilacouqua, with our bows we rule the land.