by Ben Marshall
“We come in connection with the business that has seen your dignitaries pass through the principal realms of Periand, and I was told that Katchanga himself invited me to be present,” Cecilan told the guard without turning his face to regard him, raising a robed arm from beneath his heavy woollen cloak to augment the power in his voice. The winged mounts of the Fire Elves seemed to fall into a trance at the ethereal tone, their hovering becoming lazy as they tried to turn themselves to face the city once more, and the sentries had to grip their harnesses of softened leather fiercely to maintain their position.
“Why have you brought so many of your brethren along? Surely you do not believe that we would transgress the Ancient Laws, from the Age when our race was born?”
“I believe that the air above the oceans is treacherous from Autumn until Spring, while the mountains that ring Lebruskt and those who touch the Eastern border of Barid are the declared territories of powerful Dragon-kin, the dangers posed demanding that I have strength sufficient to overcome the obstacles. Now I am weary from several days of travel upon the icy winds, and request that my warriors and I are taken to a place where we might regain the strength we have lost.”
The Lord’s voice held within it a taste of his impatience created by a life of action that now knew little of such duties, yet the blemish in his haunting tone was hidden by his calm demeanour before his face grew stern.
“Few Lords would allow a soldier to accuse him of believing anything so foul as you suggest, the idea implying a belief that I would myself break the hallowed Laws of our predecessors, by bringing an army to your realm prepared for battle against you, but my weariness outweighs my anger and I seek only somewhere to rest before this business is concluded.”
“Forgive me, Lord of the Forest, but in such times it is not wise to trust to appearances. All the Mortal Races display remnants of our Ancient Enemy’s malevolence, and who’s to say he cannot transform himself into a vision of a being such as you? Lord Katchanga told us that news of your travels had been brought to him, and our munificent Council has placed you and your troops within a wing of the Citadel for the duration of your stay. If you will follow the other sentries you shall be taken there, while I was instructed to inform my commanders of your arrival.”
With a nod of farewell the officer left his group to travel towards the west of the city, his banner-laden comrades flying ahead of Lord Cecilan towards the North where already the flaming turrets of the Citadel could be seen upon the darkening horizon. It was hard to tell whether it was natural, imagined or magical in its presence, but Kerial felt a wave of pleasing warmth come upon her as the group was led above the bronzed buildings of Pathosien, towards the fountains of dancing flame upon the pillars and turrets that graced the undeniably beautiful dwelling, that was to serve as their home until the meeting was concluded. The four Fire Elves that were guiding them flew towards the Citadel without glancing back at the host that followed upon their various mounts, and for this Cecilan was grateful indeed as he thought of young Kerial trying her games on them during this journey. Though he felt uncomfortable away from the calm security beneath the green canopy of his domain, the Lord of the Forest silently appreciated the glorious curves of the Citadel’s pillars, domes and towers, while the sight of the guards in their golden armour told him subconsciously that his safety could never be questioned. They reacted with less apprehension to the arrival of wyverns to the realm, though they were certainly perturbed by the number of Draconic creatures that landed within the land behind the iron gates, and their eyes watched each with curiosity and caution.
Leaping down from his roan hippogriff to stand before the double doors of the Council’s stronghold, Cecilan felt Yanaliel stiffen slightly as she gripped his hand when he placed it beneath her own slender palm, and it was easy to see why she had reacted in such a manner. The doors had swung open even as the host from Faluvii had touched the soft earth; the silent members of the Council emerging from the threshold and approaching the warriors, their hands held before them and clasped together beneath the sleeves of the shining robes each member wore. They held a great aura around them, one of wisdom and majesty that was unique, and none of the onlookers could summon forth words as they watched the twelve Elders approach.
“The sentry reported that you were wearied from your travel. Come, and find peaceful rest within our halls, before the feasting that shall take place a few hours from now,” the Head Councillor told them without fixing his grey eyes upon any of the Forest Elves’ faces, his cracked voice faltering slightly as he looked past them at the approaching figure of a warrior from his own faction’s realm. Turning her head to follow his eyes, Kerial felt her heart catch briefly as she gazed upon his incredible attire and handsome features.
Light brown boots of thick snakeskin extended halfway up his shins, the footwear bulging over leather leggings which matched the scarlet tunic beneath his shimmering cloak; the wind causing it to catch the last rays of the sunlight at varying angles, and appearing to have been woven from strands of fire rather than fabric. His upper arms were adorned with bands of golden metal, his forearms and hands hidden beneath similar gauntlets, and her eyes shifted over his slender tanned body that displayed a lot of toned muscle beneath his clothing, finally coming to rest upon his youthful face. He could not have been much older than she was in relation to the other Elves gathered in the area, yet his sparkling blue eyes revealed inherent wisdom in their depths, and his demeanour was one of a warrior experienced against many a skilled opponent. He was taller than her by almost half a metre, his red hair highlighted with blonde in many places as it flowed just past his shoulders.
“Aurephian Leavale, one of our most gifted young combatants,” the Head Councillor explained at Kerial’s obvious interest and, judging by the smile upon the warrior’s face, he had noticed her as well as he entered the compound. His eyes darted from hers to her full lips, and back to her green eyes before he turned towards the members of the Council and bowed with great respect, his right fist brought across to cover his heart as he bent from the waist, his back kept straight before rising again.
“Leavale? I have heard this name before,” Lord Cecilan suddenly spoke, drawing looks from the Fire Elves gathered. “You are descended from Aphelial Leavale?”
“He is my father, Your Lordship,” the warrior responded as he rose from his bow, his eyes resting only for a brief moment upon the Lord of the Forest before turning back to the Councillors, a question upon the tip of his tongue that was anticipated by the one of the Council members before it could be voiced.
“He is waiting for you in the garden. You believe you are ready for the initiation?”
“I shall not know for certain until I face the challenge, Honoured Councillor, but I will strive for success.”
“Then come, before you must face him with only the firelight to help you see his movements. The less shadows the better when duelling with Lord Katchanga.”
“Katchanga is here?” Yanaliel suddenly asked, her eyes showing her eagerness to look upon the most favoured Guardian of Nature. Cecilan, too, seemed to be showing a desire to see Katchanga, though he held within his look a cold anger rather than a yearning wish, as if he needed answers to burning questions of a private manner.
“He has been present intermittently for the past few days, though I do not know if you will be able to speak with him tonight. However you are welcome to try, as you must pass the garden on your way to the wing we have set aside for your people until they return home at the end of the meeting.”
The Councillors turned and led the way into the Citadel, their shadows cast into several directions by the flaming torches that stood within their brackets upon the flanking walls. The other Elves followed close behind, led by Cecilan, Yanaliel and Aurephian, each Forest Elf gazing with silent awe at how vastly different the Fire Elves were to their own way of life within Faluvii. Kerial followed close behind Leavale, her eyes leaving the back of his gracefully marching body only oc
casionally to stare at the other people who were residing within the immense stronghold. Ambassadors, attendants and musicians were all seen walking along the shadowy passages, their eyes often straying to see the strange procession of warriors and Clerics the Lord of the Forest had chosen to accompany him. The Lord himself did not turn his head at the whispers, nor did he give any sign he was aware of the onlookers’ presence, until a familiar voice was heard as running feet echoed upon the marble.
“Hail brother! Welcome!” Halarniel, dazzling in garments of gold beneath the green cloak that flew behind her as she caught up to the group, was smiling broadly as she embraced her older sibling fiercely. The Forest Elves all bowed in reverence as she arrived, but the Lady of the Forest did not seem to notice as she continued to hold Cecilan.
“I have come, dear sister, and I ask your forgiveness for my earlier behaviour. It was a lapse of wisdom and understanding I hope shall not be repeated.”
“It is already forgotten. I am sorry too for what was said by me those long days ago. Are you going to watch Katchanga fight?”
“Perhaps for a short while, but I am exhausted from our flight and would appreciate a long period of slumber in the not too distant future.”
“It’s great that I’ll finally get to see him after so long. He has been unavailable almost all the time I have been here, but now I can see him and speak to him at last.”
“Forgive me, noble cousins, but I must reach the garden before the sun has fully given way to the darkness,” Aurephian told them, respect mingled with urgency in his tone. “The chance for an initiation into Katchanga’s ranks is an honour that soon passes if I linger.”
With a bow to the Elders and the gathered Forest Elves he started to race down the corridor to disappear around the corner, the sound of scabbards ringing against metal accompanying his every step. Kerial looked the very definition of disappointment as she watched him leave without a glance in her direction, and turned to face the rulers of her realm with her eyes imploring them to hurry.
“We too shouldn’t tarry, or Katchanga shall depart once more for the Vale and you may not get another chance to see him before the meeting is held,” the Head of the Council told them, the siblings breaking their embrace and nodding for their guides to continue.
The garden was situated towards the very rear of the Citadel, a large and elliptical area of natural beauty surrounded by a narrow passage, before the outer wall rose up to block out the world beyond, and already little could be distinguished without the light of the fires, set upon slender pillars at intervals along the surrounding walls and also in a large circle within the garden’s heart. Katchanga and the warrior of Pathosien were already facing one another in the circle’s epicentre, the ancient Elf in quiet conversation with the young hopeful as the group drew close enough to draw Katchanga’s attention. His golden eyes reflected the dancing flames as he looked at the faces of the onlookers, his gaze lingering briefly upon Cecilan and Yanaliel but pausing at Halarniel’s beaming face for several minutes before he seemed to recall where he was. Turning away from her to face the warrior before him, he tilted his head slightly as he noted that already fires were dancing across the twin scimitars.
“If you are ready, young warrior, then make your first move,” he told him in even tones, clasping his hands behind his bared torso as he did so. The white tiger image was caught from several angles by the torches, causing the beast to seem animated and almost a living entity upon the muscular back that bore it.
Almost as soon as the words left the Lord’s mouth Aurephian moved into a crouching position, his blades brought before him in anticipation of a strike, but none came. Katchanga remained stationary, his face broken by a smile as he saw the confusion upon his opponent’s face. Slowly he began to circle the warrior, his every footstep silent and calculated, every movement bringing him slightly closer to the blades that hovered a few metres before him. He ceased his advance just half a metre in front of the tips, his circle tantalisingly close yet tauntingly out of range, beads of sweat glistening in the flames. His golden eyes bored into the blue ones of the young warrior, who felt himself filling with a hungry desire to lunge and strike. His feet rotated upon their toes, his muscles preparing for a swift dive across the distance that separated the combatants, and he knew he could not resist for much longer. The smile upon the Lord of the Vale’s face widened as he maintained the distance, watching the uncertain warrior turn sharply to keep sight of him while striving to hold his defensive posture. After two further orbits of his opponent the ancient Elf advanced again, coming to rest now just a quarter of a metre from the edges of the fiery blades.
Now is the time to attack; before he can make the first hit. Aurephian heard his mind telling him to move yet still a part of him wished to wait, the indecision causing his blades to wobble slightly, as the impulses fought between themselves for dominance over his muscles. It was as Katchanga finished a third circle at this new range that the Fire Elf dived forwards, his strikes aimed at the stomach and shoulder of where he perceived his weapons to meet Katchanga, but his attack met only air as the Lord twisted to reverse his direction. Realising his vulnerability the younger warrior spun around and tried to strike again, but another reversal brought the Eastern Elf around behind him to appear upon his opposite side, a quiet laugh drawing the youth to face the right direction rather than attempting to turn and follow his opponent.
Now the Lord of the Vale struck, his scimitars brought before him and blazing their blue fire, with such speed that the flames caused a streak across the vision of the onlookers, steel ringing against steel furiously as Aurephian struggled to counter the blows that rained upon him. He could barely move in time to shift his angle accordingly, every strike from the ancient warrior forcing him to retreat a step as he spun and twisted. Almost as swiftly as they had began the blows ceased, but the scimitars were withdrawn with a twist that sent both of the Fire Elf’s blades out wide and he groaned with shock and pain as the shoulder of his opponent struck his midriff. He was taller than Katchanga by an inch, yet centuries of battle and training had developed within the older warrior strength beyond the normal limits of Elven growth, and the attack sent him to the floor more than a metre from where he had been standing just moments before. He barely managed to retain his grip upon the scimitars he held within his gauntleted hands, forcing his shaking legs to support him as he crouched again before lunging with his own attacks, more clashes accompanying the different-coloured streaks of fire, until he felt fresh pain across his chest, the tunic he had been wearing sliced apart as a thin trickle of blood ran from the diagonal scratch, that would have been far deeper save for the control of the ancient warrior. The Elven Lord turned his swords to place them back in their scabbards, his hands reaching into the waistband of his leggings to draw two sai blades; their edges shining with an ethereal white light as he held them before him with the pommels facing his opponent.
Now Aurephian wished he had refused to enter the arena for his initiation, his resolve faltering as Katchanga charged with lightning speed across the metre that separated the pair; a tiger’s roar escaping the lips of the veteran as he brought his blades out to block the scimitars that were being brought forward to fend him off as the Fire Elf tried to dodge the incoming blows. Twisting the short blades with his wrists, the Lord of the Vale showed respectful astonishment as he felt the tremendous resistance being applied by his young foe. He almost lost his own hold over one blade before he could change the direction of the twist and force the scimitars from the youth’s grip.
“Remarkable,” he told Leavale as he held out his hands to signal the cessation of the duel. “None have before displayed such resistance to their urges, nor withstood for so long the pressure of the sai blades before they were disarmed. I would be honoured to welcome thee into my ranks when we enter my realm after the meeting.” The look of disappointment at his defeat turned to one of confused delight upon Aurephian’s face, and he bowed to Katchanga with the respe
ct of a member of a force that was legendary among all the warriors of his nation.
“I shall be honoured to fight beside your banner as long as I am granted the honour of serving you, but why must I wait for my membership to be official?”
“Because all warriors in my troop must have in their possession a symbol of their allegiance and thine own has yet to be crafted. Many of my soldiers have the armour they wear and the weapons they wield as their tokens, yet it would dishonour the ancestor whose blades thee wield and whose chain mail thee already wear into combat if thee were to change now. Thy symbol shall be of no less importance in times of war, yet it shall be several days before thou art united with it. Until then rest after thy labours tonight, for the months that shall come will tax thee further beyond thy limits than this duel.”
The Lord of the Vale turned to walk from the garden, his body slowing no signs that he had fought at all and his eyes cast skywards as if he were asking the twinkling stars within the sky to answer a silent question. He walked past the gathered spectators, bowing respectfully to the Elders as he went, but halted a few paces beyond the ring of Elves as Halarniel stepped in front of him to block his exit.
“Many days I have waited to see you and speak with you, and the one time we are both in the same place at once you seek to walk away without a word?” Tears were starting to glisten in her eyes, the sight of her torment such that the Eastern Elf had to look over her shoulder rather than into her beautiful face to withstand the pain that was building around his heart.