Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary

by Clive Ousley

  Olaff looked to the top right corner; he had seen the same strange emblem before. It had been on the priest’s map, and was composed of a circle with a thin cross and the letters N, E, S, and W labelled. The symbol looked out of place and he pointed to it. He was about to ask Seara its meaning when she placed the round glass container next to the symbol.

  All that came out of his throat was, ‘errrr’. He clamped his jaws closed in embarrassment. He looked back to the map aware that his cheeks were reddening again.

  It had the same faded letters within the box and a small needle waved and danced within.

  'This is called a compuss Olaff,' Seara began, 'it's used to indicate which direction you should travel in, in relation to the map. The needle points always to this position of North.’ She showed him on the map symbol.

  'North? You mean the symbol N stands for the first letter of north.’

  'You’re doing well,’ Seara squeezed his arm and Olaff leaped back as if bitten.

  'Sorry.' She carried on teaching him as if nothing had happened.

  Olaff looked for Praled. He had resumed transcribing his script to cover a sad look.

  Ten minutes later Olaff had the theory of map reading and exclaimed excitedly.

  'The map will be really useful . . . thanks Seara.'

  'Good, that’s one Jadde-star to me,' she laughed and clasped her hands together delightedly. Olaff thought she saw everything as a light-hearted challenge to win favour for herself and wondered why.

  Seara leapt up, and excitedly squealed words at him, 'well, can we make use of this map and compuss?’

  'Compass,' Praled shouted a correction without looking up.

  'Sorry. Compass. Olaff – compass.'

  He nodded, but something nagged him; she had said ‘we’.

  'You can't come . . . I . . . must travel alone.' He hoped he sounded convincing.

  'Two people can combine two ideas, and are better than one person with only one idea,’ Seara argued.

  'But . . . it is dangerous . . . Quarter-men?'

  ‘Two people can hunt game and then while one keeps a lookout the other cooks the food.’

  ‘It is dangerous.’

  'Not if we stick to the well used paths. We will have two lots of eyes to look in two directions at once. Two chances to spot danger.’

  Olaff kept quiet so she tried a different persuasion. ‘I've spoken to the Wolf warriors guarding the demon and they say BerantWolf would always stay on the sacred route even if he's returning. This sacred route will be safer and clearer to follow.'

  'I must go alone,' it felt as if his chest was crumbling and spilling out his new love. He could hardly bear it; but her safety was paramount and he could not guarantee it if she was with him.

  'I'm sorry Seara . . . I must go alone . . . I've discovered the world is . . . an infinitely more dangerous place than I'd realised . . . since leaving Cyprusnia . . . I'm sorry.'

  Her face reddened with eyes full of fire that threatened to melt him. With fists clenched her whole body went completely rigid and she growled in frustration.

  It had been one of the longest, but most important statements he had ever made. He gathered his resolve and repeated, 'I'm sorry.'

  Seara emitted a huge sigh like a sudden gust in a gale, and stormed from the library slamming the door on the way out.

  Praled turned to Olaff. 'Wisely said young man, I'm afraid Seara always sees good in everything. It is her way of masking the evil out there – you had no choice.'

  Olaff nodded in thanks. He had to leave straight away, any further delay could have serious consequences if Seara accosted him again.

  'Thanks Praled . . . can I . . . have the map?'

  'Take it, I’ll tell her you have it. It should be of consolation to her. Good luck young priest.'

  Olaff grabbed the map and rolled it as he rushed through the door and down the steps to get his backpack.

  Ten minutes later he was running across the Lighthouse Bridge. Without a backward glance he resumed the well trodden trail toward the lands of the Sylve.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  As the sun set Olaff consulted Seara’s map and ran to make use of the last hours of daylight. Later he passed the War-bird shrine that Seara had clearly marked with a question mark beneath the name. Strange, not even a likeness of Jadde or her bird, he thought as he ran past, and didn’t give it another thought.

  He found rocks with a central space containing an overhanging tree for the night’s shelter. Having removed an arrow from a rabbit, he settled down to cook the animal over a sheltered camp-fire. With his stomach full he looked at Seara's beautifully traced map to judge his progress. His eyes misted so much he had to return it to his pack and force his resolve to return. Malkrin had to be found without her holding him up. I’m not returning to Brightwater; that is final, he told himself and concentrated on turning the rabbit over the flames. Later feeling better with his stomach full he drew the sleeping fur around him and settled down for the night.

  Suddenly he was awake from a hunter’s light sleep, and grabbed his bow. Was it an owl hoot that had just awoken him or something else? He looked at the moon – about one hour to sunrise. He had slept well and felt refreshed. But his father’s hunter-instinct filled him; something was out there. He was being stalked, probably by a wild cat or a wolf. A faint rustle in a thicket of shrubs beyond his rock enclosed camp told him something large stalked there. The owl hooted and flapped into the night. His eyes momentarily followed it past the nearly full moon. Pale light spread a colourless glow to the surrounding hillside and trees as he silently removed his bow and notched an arrow. Another slight crunch registered instantly. The rustle moved silently uphill and to the right. He kept his eyes away from the camp-fire embers so as not to ruin his night-vision and crept out of the circle of rocks.

  There was a clear view back to his camp. He re-notched the arrow and waited.

  In the unlit shadows a shape glided through the undergrowth, it was a large creature and moved in fast rushes. It rose to look around, and then stooped.

  Silently he circled behind it, his suspicions aroused. He was not one to feel anger but in this case he felt his fists clench as he shouldered his bow. He rushed forward silently, bent down to grasp the creature as it prepared to crawl forward.

  He grabbed a leg from behind and the creature fell.

  ‘Get off me.’ Her scream filled the night.

  ‘Shut up – it’s me,' he whispered urgently.

  Seara lay panting in fright.

  ‘Idiot, don't sneak up on me like that. I was trying to make sure it was you up there.’

  'I said . . . you couldn't come.’

  'And I knew I could – so here I am,' she unveiled her most persuasive smile.

  ‘How . . . are you going to keep up . . . with me? I can't slow down.'

  'You won't have to, I'll be just behind, you'll see.'

  Olaff sighed resignedly, she was here and it was too late to make a scene. It couldn't be undone and he knew what would happen if he tried to send her back. He thought for a moment of deliberately running faster than her ability to keep up – but that was cruel and he couldn't do that to her. He'd have to slow down and pretend he was running at his best speed so that he could look after her. It would just have to put more time on his quest.

  So much for his resolve.

  Then a hope flared bright; maybe they would meet the warriors on their return journey and it would mean he would cover less distance. The thought seemed to provide a partial resolution and it cheered him. Then Olaff realised he felt cheerful because Seara was there with him, and that cheered him more.

  'All right, come to my fire,’ he said resignedly. ‘You must be starving. I've some rabbit and oatcake left.'

  She reached over, grabbed his arm in delight and pecked his cheek.

  'I knew you wouldn't be angry.’ Seara held his arm all the way to his fire. 'I started an hour after you and guessed where you were from the glow of the
fire.'

  He smiled, but resolved to only light a fire in a more secluded location next time – if Seara could find him so easily then so could a quarter-man.

  After sunrise he sat waiting for her to awaken. She must still be exhausted after travelling and searching for him well into the night, he thought. Finally she woke and insisted she bathe in the nearby stream. He studiously looked the other way. They ate a light meal and Seara was finally ready. He kept a moderate pace and was surprised she kept up easily, so he sped up.

  'Come on Mister Tortoise is this the best you can do,' she taunted in that laughing voice he loved to hear. He increased speed again and glanced behind, she was beginning to pant and beads of perspiration had formed on her forehead. He slowed a little and she kept up. They followed the path over undulating hills and through small stands of woodland, forded streams of variable depths and ran through shadowed copses thick with leaf mould. The sound of falling water grew steadily louder and they reached a rickety rope-bridge suspended over a fast torrent.

  Olaff let Seara rest and tried to find their location on the map before negotiating the flimsy span.

  'We should reach Sylva tomorrow,' Seara estimated and Olaff silently agreed.

  After some refreshment they negotiated the bridge one at a time, fearing it would not take them both. Then they ran along a wide path until sundown. Olaff told her the kind of secluded hollow he was looking for and spotted the ideal spot before her. He smiled as she conceded defeat good-naturedly, again she had treated the search as a challenge she wanted to win.

  'It’s one Jadde-star each now,' she announced. For the first time he decided stopping her accompanying him was the wrong decision.

  They both slept the sleep of the dead. It was only when Olaff awoke to the fresh dew scented morning that he realised Seara was snuggled up to him in her warm sleeping fur. The scent of her hair was intoxicating and her sleeping face looked so innocent and uncaring. He did not dare move lest he awaken her. The sun appeared over the rim of their hollow and he drifted into a luxurious dream involving a normal life in Cyprusnia with Seara and a cosy home.

  Olaff woke again to the smell of cooking. Seara had been up and working, the smell of food greeted his senses. He found a rainwater pool beyond their hollow and washed. When he returned Seara handed him a large wooden bowl of meat and vegetable broth. They ate in companionable silence before Seara became impatient.

  'Aren't you going to ask how I obtained the meat to make the stew?'

  He had not given it a thought, but the broth was very fresh and tasty.

  ‘Sorry Seara, I guess . . . I'm not awake yet.'

  ‘I watched my father use his bow in the town competitions and asked him to secretly instruct me. I thought I'd borrow yours and hunt something – I got two squirrels, fat ones. They taste nice don't they?'

  A twist of anger, quickly suppressed. It was good she had acquitted herself well with hunting techniques.

  'I remembered about the knocking point on the bowstring and how to sight the arrow and it worked.' She paused and smiled hesitantly, ‘but I used a few of your arrows, hope that's all right?'

  The quiver had been carelessly thrown onto their backpacks, most of the arrows were gone and the truth hit him. She had used so many that they were virtually defenceless should they be attacked.

  'Let me look at your left wrist,' he demanded, and sure enough the wrist was scratched and inflamed. She had no wrist guard and the bow string and arrow flights had done their damage.

  'I don't get another Jadde-star then?' she tried to make light of her impetuousness.

  'No. I must search . . . for my arrows; we may need them . . . to defend ourselves.'

  Anger rose in him. Not wanting her to notice he walked off toward nearby trees where she must have hunted the squirrels. He was short of twelve arrows; they had carefully knapped flint tips and woven duck feather fletching. He could not afford to lose them.

  He found the disturbed grass where she had stalked her prey and examined the area around where she must have shot the squirrels. Then he hauled himself into the trees and found seven arrows imbedded in the boughs. Of the others there was no sign.

  He was about to get down when in the distance he saw a line of death black shapes moving through a thicket of shrubs. They were making no sound, just scanning the surroundings with malignant stealth. He could imagine no greater horror; even his worst nightmares had not been inhabited by such creatures. He felt his stomach loosen and had to get an instant grip lest he lose all control. Were the evil creatures searching for them or were the quarter-men on another mission? He glanced over to the still smoking cooking fire – a give-away when they came over the rise and out of the thicket.

  Transferring his weight from foot to foot he grappled his way quickly round the tree so it shielded him from the demons. Then climbed down and ran silently back to Seara. Luckily she was packing their backpacks and most of the food and belongings had disappeared into them.

  ‘Finish, quickly,' he whispered urgently.

  Seara stared open eyed with surprise.

  'Demons,' he hissed as he stamped out the cooking fire and splashed the remainder of the broth over the embers.

  He shouldered his backpack, bow and quiver. A glance showed she had scooped up the remaining belongings and already had her backpack on. They both peeped over the rocky rim, searching carefully for the danger.

  ‘Coming this way,' she warned.

  ‘Detour to the trees, then round to the wide path,’ he whispered. ‘We'll travel quicker along it.'

  Olaff knew it would have been better to act like a fox and slink away. But he couldn’t risk Seara snapping a twig or rustling branches and give them away, so he gestured her to run. Trees flashed by in a blur and Olaff followed her through ferns and long grass in frantic haste. He attempted to rouse his highsense as best he could whilst pounding his feet. It would be their best defence if he could channel enough energy from their headlong flight. He felt the tingle slowly filter into his fingers as he ran.

  Seara tripped and they both went down in a tangle of limbs. He had been following her too closely. Behind them the sounds of demons in pursuit drew closer.

  Panting, he hauled her to her feet.

  'All right?' It was all he could spare the time to say. She nodded and they resumed their flight. But Seara now had a slight limp and was perspiring freely with the effort. She slowed further and the path seemed to stretch ahead of them as straight as an arrow through the dense trees.

  He ran trying to regulate his breath as a hunter would in a long chase. But Seara was still slowing, her limp more pronounced. Olaff glanced behind; the first demons had reached the path and were speeding along the straight stretch. Ahead a sharp bend in the path appeared and then around it another straight stretch. To one side was thinning saplings and beyond, the tops of massive trees appeared. Somewhere far ahead amongst the foliage a large fire smoked.

  But it was too far, Olaff realised they would not make the shelter of the Sylve’s village. He glanced left to where large outcroppings of rock led downhill to pasture land with goats grazing. He looked for a defensive position; a high point where they could fend off the demons. A glance behind showed the quarter-men were closer. The detail of their drooling mouths and evil red eyes set in their human masks could be clearly seen. Not long now and he would have to turn and fight to give Seara a chance to escape. The large tree homes of the Sylve looked no nearer.

  He mustered the highsense energy, his fingers tingled then heated. It was time.

  He shouted, 'Run, I'll delay them.'

  Seara turned, looked in horror at the approaching quarter-men and hesitated. Her steps faltered.

  Olaff stopped to focus his energy, his finger tips glowed. She had paused and was looking frantically round.

  'Run,' he repeated.

  He had to think quickly, with one arm he removed the bow and quiver and threw them at Seara knowing she would do her best with them.

  S
eara caught them. He turned as the first quarter-man reached them. The others were a distance behind. He stretched his arms and extended his fingers as if they were claws – and released the pent up fire.

  A shimmering popping ball of concentrated blue hit the quarter-man squarely in the chest. It stopped dead in its tracks, enveloped in blue lightning that clung and rippled over its torso. Smoke began to seep from the gaps in the carapace plates and it crumpled to the ground. A sickening smell of cooked meat drifted to Olaff's nostrils.

  Seara grabbed his arm, pointed to a hillock decorated with a large flat rocked top.

  'Up there Olaff, we can fend them off. Someone from the village will see us and come to our rescue.'

  Seara tried to haul herself up the mound and fell back. His fingers cooled momentarily so he pushed her feet up as she clawed rocky protrusions with frantic hands. Then she was on top, shouting toward the Sylve village for help.

  Spinning round he faced the oncoming demons. Six of them were running from the track. He put his back to the rock and stretched his hands before him. Sire Josiath’s training took over – controlled breathing and calm focus had been drilled into him. A blue fireball hit the first creature and it fell, fried. He summoned another fireball and another. An arrow hit a tree behind the demons as Seara fought to aim straight. A part of his mind had time to admire her; the shot had power and had only just missed a demon. He released another blue fire-ball.

  An arrow lodged in a demons carapace slowing it.

  But there were too many; twenty were streaming from the path. An arrow felled one through its neck. He released fireball after fireball leaving stinking smoking corpses amongst the short grass and path edge. But the remainder kept coming. Olaff kept his highsense charging fireballs, throwing them, then charging and throwing.