A Warden Born

by Paul Summerhayes

  Finn ran for a long time, until his legs folded underneath him and he collapsed onto the cold ground. He rolled a few times before coming to a stop on his back.

  Get up. Get up and live!

  His body would not respond. He was exhausted, and the only thing that would move was his chest as he sucked in air in big gulps.

  After a few moments, Finn realised that all was quiet and he was still alive. The stars twinkled in the sky as he held his breath and listened.

  All was silent.

  He rolled onto one elbow and looked back across the field he had just run across. Nothing—his eldon eyes could not see anything, at all.

  I’ve lost them.

  He rolled onto his back, again, and closed his eyes as his breathing slowed.

  Finn opened his eyes and sat up. He wasn’t sure how long he had lain for—hopefully not too long. Standing, he looked around. The night was still.

  How far did I run? Anna—I hope she is alright!

  His throat was dry and he was incredibly thirsty, so he stooped to pick up a small smooth stone and put it in his mouth. His grandfather had once told him that it would help quench thirst. He broke into a jog and headed back in the direction he thought the bandit’s camp was.

  I hope she is okay. I won’t let anything happened to her!

  After what seemed like half the night, Finn found his way back to the woods. He stumbled across their equipment still hiding amongst the ferns. It felt like it was all there. Using the moonlight, he crept back to where he had last seen Anna. She was not there.

  Where is she? If they’ve hurt her, I’ll kill every one of them!

  For a moment, he panicked. It felt like his world had totally fallen apart. First, Kalher was murdered in front of his eyes, and now Anna was missing. He now realized how much he cared for her.

  Finn looked for any signs that she might have left, but the trees cast too many shadows for him to see. It was too dark, even for his eldon eyes.

  In case someone was watching the area, he crept further around the ridge, crouched under a bush, and waited for some time. Finn listened to the night, but all was quiet. He could smell the faint whiff of the bandits’ fire, and, unsure if that was good or bad idea, he snuck forward for a look.

  Down in the camp, everything looked the same. The hut and tents were there, but the wagon and one of the mules were gone. The camp fire was still going and someone sat, wrapped in a coat, and looking into the fire. There were no other people in sight.

  There must be more than one guard, unless they think Anna was the only spy. That seems unlikely, since they saw me run.

  Finn was torn. He had never been in this sort of situation, before, and he felt unsure of what his next action should be. His heart told him that his first loyalty was to Anna. He felt that he had no choice, but to see if she was being held in the camp and to rescue her if he could—or die trying. He crept forward down the slope from bush to bush, keeping some cover between him and the guard at the fire.

  Carefully, he managed to crawl within twenty yards of the fire. Lying on his stomach under a bush, Finn surveyed the camp. No one was visible, except for the dwarf cook at the fire. The flickering flame covered the cook’s face in orange light, giving him a sinister look. The dwarf muttered to himself in a harsh-sounding language and drank from a green bottle. He looked drunk.

  Keeping outside of the firelight, Finn crawled through the undergrowth. At the southern end of the clearing, he paused and listened. All was quiet, except the crackling fire. He snuck through the old quarry, using large rocks for cover. As he passed the mine entrance, a putrid stench wafted out of the blackness and assaulted his nose. It was awful and smelled like decomposing meat. He looked into the mine, but could see nothing in its oily blackness.

  What’s that smell! No wonder it’s closed.

  Finn had the feeling that something was watching him from that darkness and it unnerved him. Silently, he crept to the hut and peeked around the corner at the dwarf, who was still sitting at the fire.

  Stepping on the tips of his toes, he looked into window. It was dark inside, and he couldn’t see a thing. He moved to the door and tried the handle. It was locked.

  The key could have been on the dwarf cook, or their leader, Tharr, who wasn’t there. He snuck to the corner of the hut and looked at the cook again, but the dwarf hadn’t moved from the fire. He sat in the same position and held the same green bottle.

  He was a lot shorter than Finn, but a good deal heavier. He wasn’t sure if he could take him.

  He looks like he is dozing off. Maybe I can hit him from behind.

  The dwarf’s head started to nod.

  After some time, Finn thought it was time to take action. If he waited much longer, the rest of the bandits might have returned. He was definitely not capable of defeating them all—he wasn’t sure if he could even defeat the cook in a fair fight without a weapon.

  He decided to look for a weapon and went to the first tent to slowly peel back the door flap. The moonlight dimly shone into the tent’s interior and reflected off two animal-like eyes. The eyes’ owner suddenly jumped at Finn and locked its sharp teeth into his left forearm, drawing blood.

  Finn shouted out and looked down at the small, child-like creature securely latched onto his arm. It was a dirty creature, no more than three feet tall, and its fangs were buried deep into his flesh.

  A goblin!

  Finn punched the goblin in the forehead and it let go and dropped to the ground. It appeared to be stunned. It had pointed ears and a long nose, and it looked up at him with small, feline eyes. It was an evil-looking being, almost like a miniature, brown demon. It recovered from the blow quickly and let out a wicked cackle, before it jumped to its feet, baring its teeth and long claws.

  In the darkness around Finn, there were sounds of movement. Goblins hissed and squeaked all around him. The small creatures stepped out the shadows and moved toward him.

  I am surrounded!

  “Oi! Who’s there?” said the dwarven cook.

  Several nasty-looking goblins crept toward Finn, and he back-pedalled. They made a chilling cackling sound as they came at him—it was as if they were laughing. He could see at least six goblins in front of him, and there were possibly more behind him. He drew his hunting knife from his belt and the goblins’ cackling changed to high-pitched laughter.

  “You there, stop, or the goblins will have you,” said the dwarf.

  There are too many of them. It’s time I left.

  The eldon turned, ran from the camp, and barrelled over two goblins that had been preparing to pounce on his back. He ran hard without seeing where he was headed. He knew that, if he didn’t get out of there, the goblins would swarm him in no time and bring him down.

  “Attack! Bring me that thief’s skin!” yelled the dwarf.

  The goblins answered in their high-pitched language.

  Finn did not look back, but he could hear things being knocked over as the feral little beasts tried to catch him. They were exceptionally fast, and he could hear them at his heels.

  After mere moments, he had crossed the small clearing and up its far side. The goblins were still at his heels as he ran through an open field. After a few hundred yards, he entered a small grove of trees, which he sped through.

  On the other side was another open area, and he stopped to see if his pursuers were still chasing him. He looked back at the dark tree line and guessed that he had run over a mile. His breath was now laboured—it felt like his lungs would burst. During that night, he must have run many miles.

  Several moments passed and nothing followed. Finn thought he was safe. A heartbeat later, however, half a dozen small shapes running on all fours burst out of the trees and headed straight for him. They squealed when they saw or smelled him—he didn’t know which. Finn jumped to run again.

  Suddenly, the ground opened up and swallowed him. It took him a moment to realize that he was falling. Finn hit the side of a narrow ravine and
tumbled head over heels a few times, before he landed heavily on his back with the wind knocked out of him. He lay on the cold ground and fought to draw breath. It finally came in big gasps, as he sucked air back into his lungs.

  Finn lay motionless and waited for the sharp claws and teeth to dig into his flesh and rip him apart. He could hear the goblins at the top of the ravine, but he couldn’t see them.

  Maybe it’s too steep, or they can’t see me down here.

  He dared not move.

  Can goblins see in the dark?

  The only goblin he had seen before that night had been a dead one that someone had shot and brought back to his village for the children to see. Goblins were the creatures of all eldon children’s nightmares.

  Small pebbles and dirt fell from the top of the ravine, but, after several moments, all was silent. He could no longer hear the goblins’ chatter.

  He stood, but pain shot up his left leg and he fell back against the ravine wall. Nothing felt broken, but his ankle was bruised and battered. Hobbling, he made his way along the ravine, using his hands to guide him in the dark. A small stream trickled down the bottom of the ravine and the walls were sheer and looked unclimbable in the dim light. It was a miracle he’d survived the fall with only minor damage.

  He spotted a depression in the ravine’s wall, an entrance to a small narrow cave. Finn crawled inside and dropped to the ground. Within moments, he was asleep, exhausted from the night’s exertions.

  Chapter 12

  Finn awoke and felt stiff and sore all over. For a moment, he was disoriented.

  How long have I slept?

  He checked his belongings. He had nothing, except a knife.

  It’s not much, but at least it’s something.

  The first rays of daylight shone into the ravine and he could see that the tunnel he rested in was narrow and the ceiling was low. It extended deeper into the ravine wall than he’d originally thought and he could not see its end.

  Maybe this will lead to the surface.

  Half-crouching, half-crawling, Finn moved down the dark tunnel. Its surfaces were unusually smooth, as though they’d been dug by hands and not by nature. After a few yards, the tunnel widened slightly and the ceiling gradually increased to shoulder-height. He paused. A faint light was ahead.

  Daylight.

  As he got closer, he could see that it was an odd, white light, which appeared to radiate from around a corner. The tunnel turned to the left and Finn instinctively went for his knife. Not for the first time, he wished he had a better weapon.

  Something called to him—not a sound, but a feeling. It promised much, and Finn’s heart was filled with a strange warmth. As if pulled by invisible strings, he sluggishly crept forward and walked around the corner. The tunnel continued on. The light source was a small, bronze mining lamp, which sat on the dirt floor in the middle of the tunnel. It was covered with a layer of dust and looked long forgotten. It radiated a weak light from an open shutter and illuminated a few yards of the tunnel. The light looked unnatural and eerie, and the hair on the back of Finn’s neck stood up.

  Who left this lamp here?

  It was evident that no one had walked through this tunnel for a long time, as there were no footprints present. The tunnel was silent.

  Finn drew his knife and prepared for fight or flight. He was no longer drawn to the lamp, but he stepped toward and bent down to pick it up of his own free will. The metal was cold.

  Something moved in the darkness. Leaving the lamp, he straightened into a fighting stance with the knife held in front of him, as Kalher had taught him. He could see nothing.

  It’s probably rats.

  He waited, and there was no further sound or movement. There was only the small lamp. Something still did not feel right, though.

  Goblins?

  “Well, eldon,” said a cold, distant voice that made Finn jump. “Are you just going to stand there?” It was almost like the darkness, itself, spoke.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Just a… friend,” said the heavily accented voice.

  “Show yourself,” Finn demanded nervously. He gripped the knife tighter.

  Beyond the light, a tall shadow moved into the centre of the tunnel. It remained outside the light, though, and Finn could not clearly see who or what it was.

  “Walk forward, into the light. I like to see whom I am talking to.” His voice did not sound confident.

  The shadow moved forward, but stopped before it reached the light. Finn could just make out an outline of a man. He was tall and slight of build. Finn’s heart raced. He was an eldon. Finn bent down to pick up the lamp.

  “Please, don’t do that,”

  “Step into the light, then.”

  “I don’t think that would be wise.”

  That cold voice sent a shiver up Finn’s spine, again. “Why not?”

  “You see,” the shadow moved forward slightly, “I don’t like the light.” It stopped on the edge of the light, but Finn could just make out his features. The stranger wore a black robe, and his face was deathly white, which made him looked anaemic and sick. He was bald—no, hairless! His ears were long and pointed, like Finn’s, and his eyes were pools of blackness that absorbed the light.

  “You’re an alp!” Finn scrambled backward and tripped in his haste.

  “What’s wrong, eldon?” A wicked smile revealed wicked, white canines. “Haven’t you seen one of the ancients, before?”

  I am dead! Finn’s heart raced as he scrambled backward. Why doesn’t the bloodsucker leap on me and tear out my throat?

  The alp did not advance, though, and remained as still as a stone.

  Finn stammered, “What—why are you—”

  “The young races are always… amusing.” The alp’s voice and features showed no emotions. As a spider studies a fly, so the alp seemed to study the eldon.

  “As you can see, I am an alp. If I was free from this prison, you would bow to me and call me ‘Lord,’” he folded his long arms, and Finn flinched at the sight of his long nails. It was strange that his long, dark robe made no sound as it moved against his bony body. “But, as you see, I am trapped.” His black eyes never left Finn as he spoke and Finn felt cold and uncomfortable.

  “You are not free, and it doesn’t look you ever will be!” Finn started moving backward again, with his eyes firmly fixed on the alp.

  “Stop!” Finn froze, but not by his own will. “Let us talk,” purred the alp, like a caged lion. “Please, don’t be too hasty.” He tried to control his tone, but his arrogance oozed around his words. His cold, emotionless features did not betray his motives.

  “Speak, alp.”

  “That’s better. What’s your name, friend?” said the alp with a toothy smile. It was not a gesture that made Finn feel relaxed.

  “I’m Finn. Who are you?”

  “You can call me Mordan.”

  “Are you trapped here?”

  “No, stupid, it’s my home.” His arrogance was back.

  “Alright, then. Enjoy your home!” Finn turned to go.

  “Stop! Please, I was hasty. I haven’t spoken to anyone for… a long time—too long. Please, stay a little longer.”

  “Answer my questions, or I’ll leave.”

  “I will tell you my story, but then you must aid me in escaping from this… prison—if you deem my story worthy.” Mordan stepped back from the light and vanished into the shadows. His voice was low and it made the tunnel air feel cold and heavy.

  “Since the start of time, we immortals ruled this world. All the lesser races bowed before us and did our bidding. They were little more than cattle, to us. We bred them for food, sport, and as slaves. After thousands of years of servitude, the humans started to openly challenge our rule. Humans bred like roaches, while our numbers dwindled. With their superior numbers, our former slaves rebelled against us, and slowly the tables turned. Many humans escaped and formed large groups. These groups formed armies. In mass numbers, they starte
d to hunt and kill us, as we once hunted them.

  “A thousand years ago, a war started. It was a war like nothing this world had seen before. The pathetic human rebellion slowly recruited other races to their unjust cause. The dwarves, gnomes, and even your race joined in. After one hundred years of conflict, the superior numbers of the mortal races won and toppled our mighty empire. The victors chased us across the world and forced the surviving alps to live in dark holes—like animals! I have not walked the world for… a long time. Who knows now how many alps still exist? I may be the last of my people.

  “This brings me to my current situation. I was trapped in this rabbit hole by the Wizards of Solaris, an evil and corrupt human organization. These evil wizards hunted me for a decade before finally corralling me into this hole. The strongest of their group cast a spell on that lamp, and its light has trapped me here ever since.” Mordan came closer to the light and Finn could just make out his shadowy outline. “That was many centuries ago!” He lunged forward. His black eyes and pale, blue-veined skin were clearly visible in the lamplight, but still the alp did not cross its barrier.

  “Well, alp, that’s an interesting tale—if it’s true.” Finn walked into the light, feeling a little braver. ”Why should I release you? How do I know you won’t kill me and drink my blood?”

  “It’s the other way around, I would drink your blood, first, and then kill you. We like our blood fresh.” Mordan laughed. It was a chilling sound, and without mirth. “Relax, eldon. I will not harm you—I am not a mindless beast.” He looked Finn in the eye. “Remember, friend, it is I that requires your help. Why would I hurt you?”

  “Someone thought you were dangerous enough to imprison you here. Why should I risk being eaten? What’s in it for me?”

  Mordan spoke fast, and he sounded frustrated. “I will give you anything your mortal heart desires. I will kill your enemies, give you great wealth, make you powerful—whatever you want.”

  “Bring back Jonas Kalher.”

  “Where is this Jonas Kalher?”

  “He is dead.”

  “Even an immortal,” Mordan said, “cannot grant you this desire. No one in this world can bring back someone from the land of the dead. I can, however, aid you in exacting vengeance on your enemies—and Jonas Kalher’s killers.”