As the blade hacked apart more of the rubble, Illwinu spoke to him in a nonjudgmental voice. “Why do you offer to help me when you could easily leave me where I lay?”
“I worship Abriana, Goddess of Love and Healing. The emblems etched into my armor declare this true. She is a merciful goddess. I know you did not imprison us out of cruelty. You had a justified concern for the safety of your people, after those others attacked your sentries.” Trestan paused and drew breath. A swing of his sword shattered a piece of a table that had fallen across her legs. “We’d not consider ourselves your enemies. Despite the race-charged comments I have heard directed at my friend, we’d prefer to know you as allies in a world encroached upon by true evil. I would be an uncaring guest indeed if I didn’t offer my hostess help when she needed it.”
The last of the obstructions came away with a final sword swing. Trestan set his sword point on the walkway as he offered an open hand to the councilor. She released the divine shield. Naef’ad Illwinu Wessail took the offered hand and allowed the human to pull her to her feet.
Trestan started to turn towards the sounds of the firbholg’s roars, but Illwinu reached out to grab his sword arm. By her stance it seemed that she only wanted him to speak a bit more before turning away from her.
“Are you going after the firbholg?”
Abriana’s champion nodded. “My friends are in danger, as are your people. I have to stop it.”
Illwinu’s eyes narrowed. Trestan found himself under her stern gaze of judgment. She nodded her angular chin towards the noise, keeping her eyes on him as she did.
“That giant is not in its own mind. Some enchantment has it acting strangely. My people are trying to stop it without deadly intent. They may regard you harshly if you bring undue harm to it.”
“I know,” Trestan nodded, “The mentalist charmed it. If it threatens a human or elf, I can’t promise to hold back my blade. Yet it is not my purpose to slay the creature needlessly.”
Trestan stepped away from the elf. She allowed her hand to fall back to her side, though her eyes still judged him. Trestan’s face reflected sincerity, “I think I can save the firbholg from itself. For the sake of all good creatures, as part of Abriana’s love, I have to try to save everyone I can.”
Trestan turned and ran down a ramp that would bring him closer to the rampage. Behind him, Illwinu did nothing to stop the escaped prisoner. Pulling some of her long green hair behind her pointed ears, she followed him from a distance.
* * * * *
Montanya could not command her legs to run from the angry firbholg. It was good that the creature had been too preoccupied to notice her, for she stood immobile next to the fallen dwelling. She could only manage to stare at the rubble serving as a grave marker for Sondra Oskires, acolyte of Ganden. A day or two ago she could have convinced herself that she wouldn’t care if Sondra lived or died on their adventure. Montanya had only viewed the slightly older woman as an enigma who challenged the chiaso’s beliefs. That impassionate view faded when they shared memories. Suddenly, Sondra wasn’t as incomprehensible as before. Montanya had been given a glimpse of her hurts, her longings, and her few precious dreams.
It appeared those shared memories were the only imprints Sondra left behind in this world. At least, it seemed that way until Montanya saw a slender hand stick out from the side of the debris and push at one of the broken planks. That hopeful sight jolted the chiaso’s legs to move. Her run carried her closer to the dangerous area instead of away to presumed safety.
“Sondra?”
“Help us!” The scared cry echoed in the elf language by small voices.
Montanya ran to the pile of debris and saw how lucky Sondra and the elves had been. The tree and its roots offered them some protection within a small pocket. The beams of the house leaned against the base of the tree in a jumble, offering a weak brace that kept some of the weight from crushing them. They didn’t have much room to breathe. The sagging boards pressed Sondra and the children against the muddy ground.
One thick board, wedged between the tree roots and the rest of the fallen walls, seemed to block their easiest route out from the debris. Sondra pushed at it ineffectively. She only managed to push herself deeper into the mud. The children cried underneath the acolyte and the rest of the pile.
Montanya braced her feet and tried to pull the board aside. Both women strained and grunted. The chiaso’s muscles proved insufficient. Montanya stood back, taking a few breaths, and studied where the board was wedged into the roots.
“If it wasn’t for the weight of this pile on the one end, I could pull the board out through those roots. I need something to cut the board.”
Sondra nodded at that, until a noise above alerted them to a new danger. Another large piece of debris broke free, dropping several bricks and a table onto the pile. Montanya jumped aside. Both women looked up and saw remnants of the house hanging above them on branches. Furnishings continued to drop. From the sounds of creaks and snapping noises, they knew the weight of the dwelling was still trying to give in to gravity.
Sondra verged on panic. “We can’t wait to saw through it. We need this board broken now.”
Montanya took a good look at the wood and recoiled. “I can’t break it. It is caleocht wood.”
Memories came back to Montanya from her old monastery. She remembered the planks of caleocht wood used for testing the students. Time and again she failed, only to see supposedly weaker students break through. She remembered the last night at the training hall, when Grandmaster Woshan had ordered her to split the board. She had ended that attempt with tears and broken bones.
More small sticks rained down upon the fallen structure. The acolyte tried to calm the children, but they couldn’t understand her. They wanted to crawl past her to safety, but there was no room.
“Somehow you need to break it. Find help. We’re being crushed under this weight as it is. We won’t be so lucky if more comes down on us.”
Montanya quietly stepped back from the board. Sondra’s worry was plain in her eyes. “You have to help, find a way, please.”
“I will try. I need quiet, and I will do my best.”
Montanya forced calmness into her own eyes as she stared at the board. The caleocht taunted her, mocked her, as that wooden cage did on the night of her parent’s death.
NO!
Montanya’s thoughts screamed inward. She berated herself for all the anger that had clouded her spirit. The words of Grandmaster Woshan came back to her.
“You will touch your Chi. You will use your inner balance to accomplish more than just your muscles would seem to allow. It will take solid concentration, but you can break this. Students who have weaker muscles than you have found the inner balance to shatter such obstacles.”
Montanya sought the inner peace that had eluded her ever since the violent death of her parents. She had to look at the board as simply her task. She couldn’t cloud her feelings with the past. The chiaso was not allowed to lose her focus with anything that distracted her from the moment.
Butterfly in the Windmill.
She began the movements as she had danced them when Lindon had performed for her. His music set the tone in her mind, forcing her to feel the power of movement within her body. She could not be rushed, despite Sondra’s worried interruptions. Montanya refrained from accelerating the movements, like she had always done in the past. Though more debris fell and hit the ground nearby, she succumbed to Lindon’s rhythm of the dance.
The thieves tried to find her there, but she ignored their faces. The student Rayka tempted her with her stolen locket, and she turned away from him. The firbholg roared in the distance, and Montanya sidestepped the fear. Even Sondra’s face taunted her, in the ways they were different. The chiaso pushed that image away by chiding herself. Sondra accomplished something with her life that Montanya didn’t…she truly gave all her efforts to benefit others.
The butterfly danced in the elven wood. She would not all
ow herself to be rushed. She could not allow herself to be lost in her past anger. The red braid whipped around like a snake in the process of making its deadly strike. Montanya narrowed her eyes in concentration on the board. This was the spinning fan of the windmill which must be broken to escape the millstone. She isolated all other thoughts from her soul as she stared upon the caleocht grains. The power of her mind, body, and soul focused together before the outmatched simplicity of the dead piece of wood.
Montanya kicked…and the board shattered.
It was that simple, and yet it left Montanya in a state of shock a moment later. She actually did it! The caleocht board snapped without leaving her any broken bones.
Montanya jumped into motion, sliding the remainder of the board through the roots with Sondra’s help. The acolyte clambered out of the hole, helping the elf children escape. The children ran away in search of their parents.
Sondra was amazed, “That looked easy! I thought you just said you couldn’t do that.”
Montanya wore her rarest expression over her face. Instead of her usual scowl, she was grinning from ear to ear. “It was easy. How come I could never allow myself to do that before?”
The creaking of strained weight above them encouraged them to go some place safer. Before they went far, however, they noticed a wounded elf watching them from nearby. They recognized their captor Cassyli. Hurt from the fall, he witnessed their rescue of the elf children.
Sondra immediately went to his side and started her healing prayers. He stared back at them without any words. As during their whole rescue, he watched but was unable to assist. When he became well enough to sit up, he looked from Sondra to Montanya and spoke brokenly in the human tongue. “You have been brave this day, saving the children and healing me. It shall be remembered and made known among my people.”
* * * * *
The elf archers were too distracted by the giant firbholg to pay attention to the foreigner running the walkways. Trestan navigated towards the menace by the noise of the action up ahead. He caught pieces of elf conversations. The archers felt useless due to the enchantment that toughened the skin of the firbholg. They didn’t hope to kill it, but they couldn’t even distract it with arrows to buy the druids time for another surprise.
Trestan came to a bridge that split into ascending and descending sections. He charged down the lower one, thus closer to the firbholg. Though he could not hear her footsteps, the squire of Abriana knew that Naef’ad Illwinu followed. The councilor was likely as concerned about his actions as those of the giant below.
A chaotic scene opened before him. A semi-circle of druids, on the ground and on walkways, were creating barriers of living plants to try hemming in the giant. Archers continued to fire ineffectively. They aimed at soft areas that would not be lethal, yet no arrows penetrated its bark-like skin. A contingent of elf warriors armed with whieus, spears, stone axes and kittanes stood ready. Their grim faces betrayed the knowledge that if ordered to attack it would be at a great cost of lives. Walkways and rope bridges were torn in places from the creature’s fury. Carts, fences, and other ground clutter had been stomped flat. Roars echoed through the forest.
The firbholg cornered its latest target, despite clinging vines trying to slow its movements. Katressa crouched on a wood bridge that was being hammered by the firbholg’s club. It slammed the cudgel against one end of the bridge until the whole structure sagged. The half-elf raised up long enough to send one more arrow on an unsteady flight.
The giant reached up and grabbed the broken end of the wooden bridge. It began to pull down with inhuman strength. Katressa scrambled to grab one railing as the bridge tilted downward. Boards snapped. The bridge would not stay intact for long with the firbholg using its muscles to tear it down.
Trestan ran down the length of a rope bridge above and behind the creature. In his haste, he couldn’t recall the Elvish words he needed. “Cat! Tell the archers to stop firing!”
Katressa somehow heard him and responded. She held on for her life as she began shouting for the archers to stop. Naef’ad Illwinu also took a chance on the young paladin, calling for her people to cease.
Trestan’s nerves were on edge as he looked at the space between him and the creature’s head. It was a sizeable drop to the forest floor from this height. If he missed, he would suffer great injury in the fall. No more arrows were in flight…leaving one less hazard to his risky plan. A long gap of air separated the walkway and the hair tendrils on the creature’s head. Trestan shifted the grip of the sword in his hand. With Katressa hanging vulnerable, it was time to make his move.
A silent prayer whispered as Abriana’s champion leapt from the walkway. Wind rushed past his face as his eyes locked on his landing spot. Elf fighters, druids and rulers along every nearby walkway watched as the insane human jumped the distance to the monster’s neck. It wasn’t a graceful landing. Trestan barely caught hold of the creature’s hair as his legs hit the creature’s shoulder. The squire sprawled forward, accidentally hugging the creature’s neck. Both his legs dropped to opposite sides of one shoulder, painfully, and by then the sword was already hanging at the right spot.
The firbholg released the bridge as it felt the weight of the man on its shoulder. It reflexively reached up to kill the attacker…until it felt the keen edge of the magical sword press against its neck. The blade dispelled the natura spell protections woven by the giant, leaving it vulnerable to any attack. It resumed reaching up to its assailant to kill the man. The sword would surely cut deep enough to end its life, but that didn’t matter to the charmed monster. Yet, in that one brief moment of hesitation, it felt a presence invade its mind.
The challenge of the beast. Trestan had the sword in place to kill the creature, but he held back in favor of this one miracle. It was the only way to reach the mind of this creature. Trestan could see the mud-packed ears up close.
The moment froze in time. Trestan locked on the hair; the other hand held the sword at the creature’s throat. The elf archers held their fire, though they stood in rows poised to release. The druids held back their incantations, sharing their wisdom to figure out what was unfolding. Naef’ad Illwinu forgot to breathe for several seconds, so intent was her attention. Katressa held on to the bridge slab. She did not move much for fear of breaking the giant from its contact, yet she did not want to lose her beloved. The half-elf tucked her legs into a position by which she could launch herself at the firbholg if it started to rage again. She had no weapon and knew the attempt could be futile, but she would die for the man who held her heart.
Trestan found layers of rage inside the mind of the firbholg. Its thoughts were tied under Jentan’s numerous falsehoods. Trestan worked his way past those layers to lay bare the soul of the creature. In their minds, he and the firbholg had an argument that went beyond words. Jentan had bent the firbholg’s mind away from reason; Trestan worked hard to untie the knots. He destroyed exaggerations, exposed half-truths, and shed light on what Jentan tried to keep hidden. Layers of rage peeled away one by one; as the creature remembered what the mentalist wanted it to forget. Reason dawned in its thoughts as it remembered the mentalist that seeded the lies. The deceptive logic that drove it into a rage was undone as Trestan removed the pillars supporting the deceits. The gentle giant remembered its softer nature.
An anguished wail released from deep within the heart of the giant. All at once it lost all menace. Trestan’s lowered his sword from the firbholg’s throat. The deep, earthy voice of the creature cried out in apologies to the elven people. Tears rolled freely as it recalled all the horrors it had just committed under the mentalist’s influence. In broken phrases, it begged forgiveness. The firbholg who had been such an intimidating threat was a gentle giant of the forest once again.
Trestan had brought the beast under control in the presence of the elves. He wondered if the elves would treat his companions more amiably now, or even give them their freedom. Revwar’s band was making headway out in that wilder
ness towards the relics while he was delayed here. Yet, in his connection with the firbholg’s mind Trestan had learned one more secret.
Trestan had a picture in his mind of the other band when they had stumbled across the firbholg. Their party had grown by one member since arriving at the elf city. Jentan had charmed another subject into joining them…one who could guide them well through the wilderness.
* * * * *
The companions rested among a crowd of guards as the people ascertained the full damage to their city. Wounded were still being treated, elf runners dispatched, and debris checked for survivors. The elves did not seem to view the companions unkindly anymore. Even their guards stood relaxed. Lindon had been healed by the druids to full strength. Sondra and Montanya actually sat together without arguing about anything. Only Katressa seemed nervous, but Trestan put a hand on hers to calm her. He was rewarded by an appreciative smile in return.
Naef’ad Illwinu stood among the other councilors. The rulers of Serud’Thanil were no doubt discussing the day’s events away from the ears of their prisoners. When their heads nodded in some mutual agreement, they turned and approached the foreigners. The guards parted as Naef’ad Illwinu Wessail led the way.
She addressed them formally, and in the human tongue. “As you already know me, it is my honor to act as the mouth and ears of our leader, and our people. I introduce you to our…governess,” (Naef’ad Illwinu seemed to struggle over the unfamiliar human word.) “I present to you Deylirra re fa Thenguinal.”
Trestan recalled that “thenguinal” referred to a high seat or throne. Naef’ad Illwinu went on to introduce the companions to the governess in Elvish. The leader either did not master the human language as well as Illwinu, or wasn’t ready to admit that she knew any of it. The companions responded properly to this figure of royalty. They each gave a formal, respectful bow as they heard their names mentioned.
The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith Page 44