by Sigrid Kraft
“They have a leader they call king and certain minor chiefs to whom the king gives land and power. There are many different levels of people. Free, unfree and condemned people.”
The Clanspeople all spoke as equals. But here in the town there were noblemen, who were addressed with much bowing and scraping. The possession of gold was also of great importance. The Fenn laughed about such things, and if someone became too greedy and started to collect possessions, the Fenn had a saying for that: ‘Can gold buy you more life?’
To survive in the mountains, good neighbors were more important than gold, and the ultimate punishment was to be banished by the Clan.
“Eryn, there are much bigger towns than Falgars Vale, though I have not seen them myself. Only heard of them from pedlars’ stories. Ah, well. Here we are.” They stood before a house with prettily painted flowers on the wall. “Lad, I have noticed how you look at Aileen.”
Eryn could not help blushing. He had tried hard to banish Aileen from his thoughts and now his father had brought up the subject again. Slightly annoyed he said: “Aileen has taken the spear.”
“I know that,” Bron said paternally. “She is still young and so are you. When five years have passed, she will think differently. Then all her friends will have a family and hunting will be less attractive to her.”
Bron winked: “Five years are a long time for an impatient young lad, but the rites of the Fenn must be respected. Aileen must renounce pleasure, but you can still enjoy life. And this house is the perfect place for that. The honor of the Fenn woman has to be held in high regard, but these Lowlander city folk see things differently. They have no honor in the way we do. And they have pleasure houses, where men can find comfort.”
Eryn’s feelings were hard to describe. A mixture of burning interest, desire and disgust. I want Aileen – not just any woman. On the other hand, here was the opportunity to finally experience what all young men wanted to know.
Bron laid his big hand on Eryn’s shoulder: “And I’ll tell you this - all women appreciate a man with experience.”
The ponies were already tethered to the hitching post by the house, and before Eryn knew it, Bron had opened the door and pushed him inside. The light was dim and a sweet smell filled the room. A beautifully dressed woman approached him. Bron declared his purpose and money changed hands. Then the woman turned to Eryn and smiled. She led him into another room and bid him wait. Presently, the door opened again, and this time it wasn’t the older woman, but a young maiden barely older than Eryn himself. She smiled encouragingly and whispered to him. Then her soft hands pulled off his clothes and stroked his body. His initial uncertainty quickly transformed into fervent excitement, and he became hard. The beautiful girl kissed him and let her gown drop from her body. But Eryn was already so excited that he came right away. The woman skillfully ignored his inexpert performance. His second attempt was still a little clumsy, but ended in success. Afterward, the young woman showed him a few things that might be of use to him in future encounters with the fair sex before telling him politely that it was time for him to go.
Bron was waiting for him outside. He winked.
“Ah, now you are a real man. Come on. It’s time to leave.”
Eryn was in seventh heaven, and it was only after they had put a good deal of distance behind them that he came back down to earth.
The weather was warm and pleasant, and they made good time on their way home. They were already on the last part of the journey, shortly before the path forked to the village, when they saw one of the free hunters far up the road. The man was still some distance away and Bron stopped.
Let’s wait and see who it is - I can’t quite make him out. I don’t think it is anyone from the Clan. One of the Lowlanders - Halfe or Raegnir, perhaps?”
Eryn, too, peered in the direction of the approaching traveler.
“He’s too skinny for Raegnir.”
“That’s true. Look, he’s stopped. He’s finally noticed us, too. I suppose it would be pretty difficult to overlook three ponies and two big men,” Bron grinned and waved at the huntsman.
“It´s Willen. It’s been a long time since he’s shown his face around here. He normally hunts deep in the mountains.”
The man was now moving towards them. Eryn didn’t know Willen well. The trapper only stopped in the village once or twice a year, when he would sit together with the warriors and talk about hunting and the old times. Willen was gaunt, with a face like a rodent. Only a few gray strands covered his balding head. He wore a long fur coat with a broad belt and an even broader buckle.
Now Willen waved too. “Hello Bron, have you joined the merchants now?”
They greeted each other with a handshake.
“My son, Eryn.”
Willen gave Eryn his hand as well, in a warrior’s greeting. “Are you sure he’s your offspring, Bron? He looks so much better than you.”
Bron laughed: “As long as he doesn’t look like you, Willen Onetooth.”
The hunter truly did not have many teeth left in his mouth. The story was that Willen had already lost his teeth as a young man, and when he came to the land of the Fenn, the Clan gave him his nickname.
“Come with us to the village. It´s already nightfall and we’re almost home.”
Willen turned down the offer: “Thanks, but I have to be getting along.”
Bron didn’t give up: “So soon? Is some beautiful maiden waiting for you?”
Somehow Willen seemed to be in a hurry: “I am bound for Falgars Vale and need to make some time before sunset. But next time I’ll gladly stop by.”
Bron shrugged his shoulders: “As you like.”
They took their leave and Willen hurried away. Astonished, Bron gazed after the departing hunter.
“I’ve never known him to be so unsociable. I wonder what urgent business he could have in town?”
When they reached home, where Lyesell awaited them with a warm meal, their meeting with the hunter was quickly forgotten.
But Willen hastened as fast as he could to Falgars Vale. He had discovered something that would change everything. Most importantly, it would bring him a lot of money. Much more than he could ever earn by hunting.
Days went by and Eryn and Arun joined their first wyvern hunt with the Clansmen. A wyvern was a small dragon. Depending on the species, some of them could even spit fire. They were highly intelligent, for animals, and hunted in packs. The relationship of wyvern to dragons was akin to that of apes to men.
The hunt was dangerous and huntsmen were often seriously wounded. But this time it was a complete success, and the hunting party returned in high spirits with their trophies.
Still Eryn kept his distance from Aileen. His bravery as a hunter was equaled only by his shyness and uncertainty in this other area. Over and over again, he put off seeing her, but one day they chanced to meet alone on the path to the village. He was on his way to the lake to catch some fish, and Aileen came towards him with a brace of hares slung over her shoulder.
It was too late to turn off the path and pretend he hadn’t seen her. So he walked up and greeted her, somewhat uncomfortably: “Hello, Aileen, how are you?”
This was rather wooden, but Aileen also seemed insecure. “I’m fine - and you?” She glanced down, embarrassed, which only emphasized the extraordinary beauty of her long, dark eyelashes. “We haven´t talked for a while... since that time by the lake,” she said. Eryn just stared at her. He noticed her shimmering black hair and the curves of her body, and how she excited him. The long silence began to be awkward. Eryn knew it was his turn to say something:
“Hmm,” was all he managed, while Aileen fixed him with her big brown eyes.
“Are you still angry with me? We can be friends... just like before.”
Eryn would have liked to put his arms around her, but she was a women of the spear. “No, I’m not angry. It was your decision,” he lied. “Everyone should have the right to choose their own way. As the Clans of the Fen
n do. But I just wanted to say, that ...” Eryn struggled for words. “When the time has passed... I will wait for you, if you want me to. In five years you might think differently and want to … well... you know what I mean.”
The smile that Aileen gave him was like a sunbeam. “Eryn, I am so happy you understand.”
In fact, Eryn did not have the feeling of having understood anything at all, but he let Aileen think he did, and she continued: “Eryn, I can’t promise anything, but if you wait five years for me, if you really do that, then I couldn’t find a better man ...”
“I will wait for you, I swear by the Gods themselves.” It came out so quickly and now it was said. An oath before the Gods to his beloved. Aileen looked deep into his eyes.
“In the meantime, let’s be friends. Best friends like before.” Eryn nodded and they went home together. The fish will not be unhappy if I wait until tomorrow to catch them. Lyesell will scold me, but I know how to twist her around my finger. He had been able do this since he was a small boy.
For a while, things were the way they used to be. Eryn, Arun and Aileen did everything together. They went hunting with the other Clansmen deep in the mountains and came back with their hunting sacks bulging. Eryn enjoyed having Aileen near him, but at the same time, he could never rid himself of doubts about their future together. And so he made up his mind to ask the Finngul.
The wise woman knows the future and can give me some advice. But her prophecies can be deceptive. The Fenn tell stories where destinies are changed by the prophecies themselves, and nothing turns out as expected. Eryn considered this for a long time, but his doubts continued to nag at him, so throwing caution to the winds, he decided to visit the Finngul.
The Finngul’s hut, small and crooked, came into view on the mountainside. Smoke curled from the chimney. Eryn stepped briskly forward before he could change his mind again. Carrying a fat rabbit over his shoulder as a gift for the wise woman, he knocked on the weathered wood of the door. Inside he heard a noise. Without further delay Eryn opened the door and stepped inside. The wise woman sat wrapped in fur by the fireplace, where her cauldron hung. She pointed at Eryn with her thin finger: “Leave, Eryn Bloodhand and don’t ask!”
Eryn was startled by this greeting. Does she already know my purpose? But I will not leave without an answer. “Greetings, wise woman. I have a gift for you.” And he laid the rabbit on a small stool - the only empty space in the entire hut. The whole room was packed with little flagons, cups, bags and other stuff: feathers of rare birds, dried out lizards and frogs, bones and who knows what. The wise woman looked at the rabbit and licked her lips.
Eryn wouldn’t let it go: “What is meant to happen will happen anyway. I beg you, Finngul, look into the future and tell me what will be.”
The wise woman shook her head: “Why do you want to know? Such knowledge usually brings no one any good. Think again.”
The more the old woman tried to talk him out of it, the more stubbornly Eryn insisted. “I am sick with love and I’m not sure how much longer I can suffer. Please help me.” The old Finngul cackled with mirth. “Love comes and goes and comes and goes. This I can tell you for sure without a prophecy, stupid boy. Don´t waste my time, Bloodhand - it’s better not to ask about the future.”
Eryn was aggrieved that the old woman would not take him seriously. “You are wise, old one, and clever - so why do you mock me? Is it fear? Is my destiny so forbidding? Is death coming soon for me? I am a warrior of the Fenn and will not bemoan my fate. Show me the future and I will bring you meat for half a year.”
The wise woman hissed: “Pah, do you think you can buy me? Look into your future for yourself if you like!”
Now I’ve upset her, Eryn thought and replied: “And how am I supposed to do that? Cast the bones or consult the stars? I have no such learning.”
But the Finngul laughed as if Eryn had just made a particularly good joke.
She’s really taken leave of her senses. Just how old is she anyway?
Then she looked straight at him: “But you can.”
“Are you making fun of me, wise Finngul?”
The heap of fur moved, and the wise woman hobbled over to the corner and began to fiddle with a small chest. “No, I am not joking with you. I will show you how. You will see, and maybe things will turn out differently than they might have. The future can take many, many paths.
Ah, here it is.” The Finngul returned with a bottle in her hand. “Do you still want to look into the future, or have you turned lily-livered on me? Spit it out, boy!”
What am I supposed to make of that? Eryn gathered his courage: “I want to see the future. That´s the reason I came.”
The Finngul came up close, assailing Eryn’s nostrils with her sour smell. When she spoke, the stench from her mouth was even worse. “Swallow this, Bloodhand, then look into the cauldron. It will reveal your future.”
The bottle contained almost half a pint and was closed with a cork. It opened easily. Eryn brought the bottle to his lips and gulped down the brew inside. It tasted hot and bitter and left a burning sensation in his throat. Warmth flowed through his body and he felt his perceptions altering. He stared into the cauldron, as the wise woman had told him.
Boiling water. Nothing but bubbles bursting on the surface. She is mocking me.
But then it happened. The water began to draw him in, deeper and deeper into a black maelstrom. Everything around him faded to a dull gray. Suddenly, the mist cleared and he was standing on a platform, looking at a large crowd of people. What followed was only a series of pictures, and then the Finngul’s voice echoed in his head.
“Your life will begin in the face of death. The world as you know it will no longer exist.”
In his vision, Eryn glanced sideways and there dangled the corpse of a hanged man, his face shrouded by a black hood. But Eryn knew by his clothing that he was a Fenn. This terrifying knowledge destroyed the picture and catapulted Eryn back to reality. An execution! I saw an execution and I was also standing on the platform. Will this be my death? A death not worthy of a warrior?
“And what will the future bring you? Are you happy now?” the wise woman asked, drawing Eryn from his thoughts.
But she spoke to me… didn’t she? “Didn’t you see it, Finngul?”
Annoyed, the old woman waved him aside. “Better you keep it to yourself. I don’t want to know anything about it… and don´t forget what you have promised me.”
“Certainly, you have my word as a warrior of the Fenn.”
The wise woman dismissed him: “Pah! Go now, Bloodhand. Leave me in peace.”
Eryn took to his heels. His hoped-for vision had not appeared. And what he had discovered troubled him. What might come to pass that would lead me to an execution – to my own execution?
2. The Chaos of War
Naganor, the Black Tower, loomed into the sky. Its black granite tiles reflected the sunlight like a mirror - a contrasting interplay of light and shadow. Naganor was built on stony ground, a proud tower at the edge of a ridge of mountains. At the foot of the tower lay the citadel with its great hall and assembly rooms. In front was a small yard, and a strong, high wall of stone surrounded the fortified area. A drawbridge led over the moat. Across the bridge, a road to the north and south connected Ardeen´s more distant towns. Less than a mile to the north was a mill by a brook. Another road led to the east towards a little village with a few houses and craftsmen that supported the nearby garrison: a blacksmith and carpenter, a tailor, leatherworker, baker and butcher. There was also a tavern, an herbalist, an inn and some other houses and shops. Leaving the village behind, one came to the garrison of the Black Guard, the elite troop of the Prince of Ardeen, numbering some five hundred men.
At this moment, His Highness, Prince Raiden of Ardeen was sitting in his study on the second floor of the Tower. He was the second son of King Tarn of Ardeen, and therefore highborn and of the noblest blood. Not only that, Prince Raiden was also the Lord of the Black Tow
er – a magician of great power. In the circle of the twelve magical fields, he was proficient in the Circle of Black, which had earned him the nickname ‘The Dark Prince’.
The circle of magic was represented symbolically by colors and subjects:
Prince Raiden was almost fifty years old, but had the appearance of a man in his thirties. Magic certainly had its advantages. One of them was to lengthen the normal lifespan by many years. He had dark, shoulder-length hair and his clothing was rich and exclusive. He had a long, handsome face, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw.
Shining blue eyes made a strong natural contrast to his jet black hair. He was preoccupied with brooding over a magical problem, when someone knocked at the door. Irritated, he called: “Come in.”
The door opened and one of the guards came in hesitantly. They all knew how it upset the Prince when they disturbed him at work.
“What?!” The tone was aggravated.
“My Prince, one of the merchants wants to see you.”
“Am I a chandler that now every merchant comes straight to me? I am working!”
The guard was visibly uneasy. “My Prince, the merchant says he comes directly from the guild and wants to see you about a very urgent matter.”
Prince Raiden hated administration, trade and political matters. In his view, such business was incumbent on the Crown. But since the King had slipped into insanity, Prince Raiden’s older brother Danian, the Crown Prince of Ardeen, saw to these tiresome affairs.
So why is the envoy of the guild bothering me? Prince Raiden thought. The guild is powerful, and sending the delegate away is not a good idea. “Send him in.”