by Sigrid Kraft
Sigrid Kraft
ARDEEN
Volume 1
The Circle of Magic
English by Sigrid Kraft and Dr. Suzanne Eaton
Proofreading by Laura Park
© Ardeen GbR
1st edition, 2014
No part of this publication may be reprinted, duplicated or circulated, electronically stored or processed without the express permission of the author.
Illustrations: Sigrid Kraft
Design and Layout: Tobias Fahnauer, www.fahnauer.de
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www.Ardeen.de
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Contents
Map
1. The Finngul’s Prophecy
2. The Chaos of War
3. The Black Guard
4. Execution
5. Aleroth – The White Tower
6. Naganor – The Black Tower
7. Crushed
8. The New Recruit
9. The Hand
10. The Wine-Cellar
11. Commendable
12. The Long Way to the First Grade
13. Special Order: Watching the Children
14. The Gelderon War
1. The Finngul’s Prophecy
The young lad was running through the high grass. Lanky, still on the threshold between boyhood and manhood, his body had not yet filled out. But he already had strength and stamina. His fair hair was held back by a strip of leather so that he could see clearly. As he ran up the gently rising hill, sweat trickled down his back, though his breathing was still even - he was used to running. He was also skilled with the bow and the hunting knife.
The day was bright, sunny, with a slight chill in the air. But as soon as the sun climbed higher, it would be pleasantly warm. A light breeze caressed the grass. The sky was a clear blue, and the snow-white hoods of majestic peaks were visible in the distance. The land of the Fenn consisted of mountains and valleys criss-crossed by rushing streams. It was a landscape shifting constantly between forest and mountain pasture.
But the young man had no eye for all this beauty. His heart was beating fast, not from physical effort, but in excitement. He had almost reached his goal.
As he approached a group of trees, he stopped and hesitated before walking on carefully, keeping to the shadows of the green giants. Beyond the hilltop, in a small hollow, lay a glassy pond. He had come here often recently. The water was so clear you could make out the stones lying on the bottom. Yet that was not his reason for visiting this place.
He came here for her. Hidden behind a bush, he peered through the leaves down to the lake. And there she was. She swam with calm strokes, her black hair drifting behind her like a veil on the water. Then she came ashore. Shafts of sunlight caused the beads of water on her naked skin to sparkle. The youth was unaware that his mouth had fallen open.
Beautiful, was his only thought, and a sensation of desire rose within him.
Aileen was the sister of his best friend, Arun. They had known each other since they were children. Recently, though, he had noticed a new depth in his feelings for her, and he promised himself:
Aileen will be my wife. While Eryn was lost in thought, Aileen had dressed herself, her wet hair leaving dark stains on her jerkin. She sat down and wrung the water out of the long mane. Soon she would leave. The youth struggled with himself. Should he go down and talk to her? He was not normally a coward. Hadn’t he fearlessly fought the wild creatures of the woods?
But this is different. What shall I say to her? How will she react? Does she feel the same or is she laughing at me? Maybe next time, he decided. After all, she came here almost every day to bathe.
Yes, next time I will pass by accidentally to surprise her - even more accidentally - while she is bathing...
Aileen swept back her damp hair and turned her face towards the undergrowth where the young man was hiding.
“Eryn!” she called softly. “Why are you following me?”
The youth’s face turned a blazing red. Discovered! Now there is no turning back...
Embarrassed, he rose and stuttered: “I - I just happened to be passing...”
With a look of reproach Aileen examined the youth as he stumbled closer.
“Yes – just like yesterday and the day before, I suppose. I’ve seen you every time. Tell me, why are you pursuing me?”
If Eryn could have turned even redder, then this was the moment for it. He could not think of a single sensible thing to say. In the end he blurted out: “You are beautiful, Aileen.”
Aileen fluttered her eyelashes and pursed her lips sensuously. “That’s what all the young men in the village tell me.”
The very thought inflamed Eryn with jealousy, but his rage gave him more self-confidence.
“None of the others means this as seriously as I do. When the time comes, I hope you will become my wife.” Now I have said it. Was I too bold? Too pushy? If she laughs at me now, I hope the earth will swallow me up.
However, Aileen did not laugh. She glanced at him with her deep, dark eyes. In that moment she was no longer the young coquette, but once again the girl he had known since childhood. She took his hand.
“Eryn, this a serious matter and you shouldn’t joke about it.”
Encouraged by the gesture, Eryn sat down beside her. “I’m not joking. I love you and I want us to be together till the end of time.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and once again Eryn had no idea what to do. Why is she crying now? What have I done? He said: “Once the Nameday comes and the Finngul has revealed my warrior’s name, then I will come and ask you again.”
But Aileen shook her head. “It is not what you’re thinking. I like you too, Eryn... very much. But I am young and I love the hunt so much. And I’m just as good at it as any of you boys,” she blurted out excitedly. “When the Finngul tells us our names, then I will choose the spear.”
This was the last thing Eryn had expected. ‘To choose the spear’ meant that a woman would dedicate herself to a warrior’s life for five years. During this time she would be recognized as an equal by the men – allowed to carry weapons and join in the hunt. But she was also under the protection of the Gods, and no man was allowed to share her bed. Women normally took care of the children and the household duties, and tended the small kitchen gardens. Bearing weapons was not expressly forbidden to them, but was considered unseemly and against the traditions of the Fenn. Their domestic chores were demanding and hardly left time for anything else. It wasn’t easy surviving in the mountains. The men were responsible for hunting, while the women did most of the planting and gathering. The only way for a woman to escape her duties was to live the life of a man. These were the traditional ways of the Fenn.
“Aileen, please think about this carefully,” Eryn started. “You don´t need to hunt. I will take care of you and bring you all the furs you could ever want. Please.”
But Aileen just cried harder.
“Don´t make it so difficult for me, Eryn. For five years I will live under the protection of the Gods. And if you cannot have me, then you will forget me and find someone else. It would have been better if you hadn’t spoken, because I love you too. If you had kept silent, I could have told myself you didn’t want me. And everything would have been much easier. ”
The young man stood up. “There is still time to change your mind. Let’s wait until the Nameday. My heart is in your hands, and on that day I will ask you again.” Saddened, he walked away.
Over the next few days, they kept their distance. Neither could face a direct confrontation. But Aileen’s
brother, Arun, was Eryn’s best friend, so Eryn talked to Arun, and Arun to Aileen and then to Eryn again. However, the stubborn young woman stood by her decision.
In the end, Arun tried to comfort Eryn with well-intentioned words: “Five years is not forever, Eryn. She will get fed up with sleeping outside in the rain, lying in wait for hours in all kinds of weather only to miss her prey in the end. You’ll see. When five years have passed, she will throw her bow into the fire and return to you full of remorse.
Eryn put on a brave face and agreed with his friend. But for a young man in love, five years were still an eternity.
Eryn’s father, Bron, was the head of the clan. He had taught Eryn everything about the wilderness, the customs and the lore of the Fenn. Eryn loved his father and Bron was proud of his son. Even though Eryn looked exactly like his mother, Bron always said it was his courage and his heart that the boy had inherited.
And when he said this, Lyesell Sunray, Eryn’s mother, would smile and throw her arms around Bron, kissing him on the lips. Which was probably the reason Bron repeated it so often.
Another important person in the village was the Finngul, a mediator between humans and the Gods. Every village had its own holy woman, and Bron believed that they were lucky to have such a wise woman in their midst. The old woman was well versed in healing herbs and had already helped many people. She could also foresee the future.
But Bron always warned: “Every prophecy has its price. Sometimes it is better to know nothing. And if things are never said out loud, then perhaps they will never come to pass. So protect yourself from the knowledge of the future, Eryn – for it is as devilish as sorcery.”
Nevertheless, on the Nameday the Finngul would gaze into the future and reveal to them their true names, the names that were tied to their fates. These were often linked to small prophecies - both good and bad.
The great day of the naming approached, the day on which Eryn and five other young men and women were to receive their warriors’ names. All the villagers climbed up the hill to the Finngul’s hut, tense with excitement. This was a great event. All those who had managed the trip up to the hut now gathered at a respectful distance and waited. A narrow ribbon of smoke rose from the chimney of the hut and curled into the sky. Finally, the door opened and the Finngul’s head appeared. Her face was corrugated with a thousand wrinkles. Only a few wisps of snow-white hair remained to her, barely covering the bald spots on her head.
Just how old is she? Eryn could not remember her ever looking any different. Nevertheless, she radiated the power of the mountains and the forests. She waved and disappeared back into the hut.
Deren, a lean youth, was the first to go in. He opened the wooden door and slipped inside, while everybody outside waited anxiously. The villagers talked to each other in subdued tones until Deren returned and announced with pride: “My name is Deren Wolfsbrother.”
The gathered crowd greeted him as the rite dictated: “We welcome you, Deren Wolfsbrother, as a full member of our Clan.”
One after another they entered and returned as Savas Oaktrunk, Griselle Windhair, Arun Hawkheart and Aileen Nightshadow.
Eryn was the last to step inside. The door of the cottage was made of ancient, weathered wood and hung crooked on its hinges. He had to lift it a little just to open it. Inside, a fire burned with a cauldron bubbled above it. The Finngul was sitting on a pile of furs and invited Eryn to step forward. The room smelled of smoke mixed with the intoxicating scent of herbs. Eryn couldn’t even begin to imagine what was boiling in the cauldron. When the old woman waved him forward, he approached carefully. No one had ever told him what was supposed to happen in the hut. They only ever said: “You will go to the Finngul and she will tell you your name.”
The silence seemed endless. The Finngul just stared into the bubbling cauldron. Finally, she croaked in a thin voice. “Who comes to learn his name?”
“Eryn, son of Bron Bearslayer and Lyesell Sunray.”
For a brief moment the old woman fixed Eryn with her ancient, clouded eyes before staring once more into the cauldron. It seemed to Eryn that he was having to wait much longer than any of the others. Didn’t Deren step out again in just a heartbeat? But waiting probably makes the time feel longer. Will my name be powerful? The name of a great hunter or a warrior? Eryn was lost in thought when the Finngul finally spoke: “Eryn, your name is Bloodhand. Eryn Bloodhand.”
The name of a powerful warrior, Eryn thought with pride. “My thanks, wise Finngul.”
But the old woman replied: “Do not thank me, for your hand will be steeped in blood.” She waved him away at once, and Eryn was happy to be allowed to leave. Outside he announced his name and the community welcomed him. Now they would all return to the village to celebrate. Promising names had been given today. Only the fullness of time would reveal the great deeds their new owners would accomplish.
The Finngul remained alone in her cottage. She had taken the cauldron from the fire. Too many dark pictures have appeared to me today. Young men approached me with hope, but I saw nothing but death and destruction. Eryn’s fate above all was shrouded in mystery - dark mystery. His future could follow so many different paths. He will be the ruin of others – Eryn Bloodhand.
Suddenly a powerful, dark voice filled the room: “A big day, old hag.”
Although it had been years, she recognized it at once - the mysterious Voice had returned. The Finngul uttered a thin screech and covered her ears with both hands. Which was pointless, because the Voice was speaking inside her head.
“Eryn Bloodhand, a nice description for an oath breaker,” commented the voice cynically.
The Finngul winced. The mysterious presence knew all and saw all.
“No man deserves a name that shames him,” the Finngul protested. “What do you want this time?”
The Voice laughed: “A little chat. Just visiting an old friend.”
Her hands shaking, the old woman pulled her worn-out cape close. The air had grown cold.
“You never show up unless you want something, Voice,” she remarked suspiciously.
The Voice never revealed his name – never. He was powerful. The Finngul had always sensed this. More powerful than she could imagine. The Voice was connected with dark sorcery.
“You’ve become so mistrustful, old wise woman. I visit you after such a long time and this is the greeting I am given? But all pleasantries aside, maybe it wasn’t such a mistake to keep the boy’s true name a secret. It cannot change what must come to pass. Tell him nothing of importance - it will be best for everyone involved.”
The last words were meant as a threat. Long ago the Finngul had made a pact with the Voice. Later, she had often regretted it. The powerful Voice frightened her and forced her to do things – magical things. All Fenn had rejected sorcery. Their land was free of magic and only the Gods of nature ruled the lives of men. It was said that the land of the Fenn was dead land to wizards and that it was impossible for them to practice their perverted craft here. But still the Voice spoke to her, which was a riddle the old woman just couldn’t puzzle out.
“Who are you?” asked the Finngul. As always, there was no answer - only silence. The
Voice had vanished again.
“It’s Eryn. The Voice wants something from him, that’s certain,” muttered the old woman. Pictures of her own past flooded into her mind. I was still a child when I heard the Voice for the first time. I dwelt in another place then – I don’t remember where. I was still very young and lived with my parents, whose faces are now beyond memory. Everyone became sick and died. The candle of my life was sputtering and it was then that I heard the Voice for the first time. He promised me a long, full life. I begged him to ease the pain, and this too the Voice promised me. But on the condition that I also promised him something in return. An oath sealed in blood. At first I thought I was dreaming. But I scratched my hand until a drop of blood oozed out and I promised the Voice whatever he wanted to hear. The Voice spoke of a favor, to b
e performed when the time was ripe. No one would come to harm through my promise, he said. And deep in my heart I knew that this was true.
So she sealed the bond and the Voice kept his part of the bargain and healed her. The fever vanished and soon horsemen appeared – fearsome warriors bristling with weapons – and took her away with them. She was terrified, but never came to any harm during all the time she remained with them. It wasn’t long before they brought her to an old man in the mountains and left her there with him. The man was an old Finngul and he began to instruct her in the knowledge of herbs and the ancient practices of healing and prophecy. After many years of study, I became a Finngul myself – a wise woman of the Fenn clans. After many years had passed, and I had almost forgotten these things, the Voice returned.
At that time, Bron Bearslayer was a young man and Lyesell Sunray his beautiful wife. They were deeply in love, but their bond was not favored with children. And Bron desired nothing more than a son. Lyesell also wanted children and had already sought my help, but to no avail. The herbs were powerless to help her. “It is not the will of the Gods,” I told her. Lyesell wept many tears and confessed that she would do anything to be with child. She had already noticed that Bron was grumbling more and more. “After a while he will blame me for not giving him a son and he will leave me for another woman.” These were Lyesell’s fears and I knew there was truth in them. Lyesell with her blond hair, full lips and big blue eyes was a beauty. But she was not a native born Fenn. She came from the Lowlands and had fallen in love with Bron. Despite his love for her, Bron was a clansman, bound to tradition and to the clan. His desire for a son was strong. And when Lyesell’s beauty faded over the years, his doubts would become more troubling. This knowledge disturbed me. But the Gods would not show me a way to help her. And then the Voice suddenly returned and spoke to me:
“It is Bron who cannot have children, not Lyesell. Send the woman to the grove of holy willows when she is ready to conceive. There she shall wait for a wanderer who will come and make her pregnant. He will then leave and their paths will never cross again. The woman should tell Bron that this is his son. If she speaks the truth, she will lose everything.”