by Jake Adler
The trees rapidly shrank in size as Vank made an almost vertical climb for some two hundred feet.
“Vank, level off!” gasped a worried sounding Ellaminva as she clung on precariously in the training saddle.
Immediately Vank responded and they started to glide across the forest. Ellaminva grinned with joy and leaned forward in her saddle, her long hair billowing behind her. Across her athletic back, she carried a quiver of arrows and a long bow, items which she kept with her at all times now, especially following recent rumours of creatures afoot towards the West. For some reason, despite her haste, Ellaminva had also brought along with her the fine Dwarven sword that was presented to her by her father last summer at her coming of age event. Dragons may indeed be the natural lords of the skies in Nemedia, but it was not unheard of for a young or wounded Dragon to be attacked and killed by a flock of Tarns. These creatures were roughly half the size of a fully grown Dragon and resembled a horrific chimera of the body of a vulture, claws of a lion, with powerful flat faces which housed an enormous set of fangs perfectly designed for ripping apart huge chunks of flesh, which they seemed equally capable of doing while in midair as well as when on the ground. Their usual feeding behavior was solitary. However, in recent times when food was short, roosting groups could be seen high in the mountains of Findias that would occasionally hunt together in flocks.
The hours seemed to pass quickly as the two companions slowly glided even higher above the tree tops, eventually abandoning their Westward direction and heading on a more Northerly route towards Findias.
* * * *
Ragni squeezed his hands around the Bedazzler Locket, his lips silently reciting a prayer to Thor, the Dwarven god of War. The three companions had already cleaned off all of traces of blood and donned the armour of the dead Orcs.
“Quickly, drag their bodies behind these rocks,” commanded Jetzan who now wore a full set of Orcish green plated armour and a full length visor. At a distance, he could easily be mistaken for an Orc and his two smaller companions could be mistaken for a Goblin. The two Dwarves were able to wear the Orcish body armour, helmet and boots, but had to make do with their original leggings.
“The locket you wear should help somewhat,” Jetzan nodded towards the item that Ragni clasped hold of. Jetzan had managed to create a make-shift backpack for them to store their original equipment and they then began to tentatively make their way along the dimly lit passageway.
“We must move in the same direction as the enemy else we will draw attention to ourselves.” Jetzan whispered, glancing back briefly to ensure that the corpses of the Orcs were totally hidden from view.
“Aye, every tunnel must have an escape route or air shaft,” Gizurr agreed as his eyes squinted in the darkness.
Time seemed endless as they nervously moved through the dimly lit tunnels, halting every few seconds to listen for the sound of footfalls. By pure chance they came across a second shaft. The tunnel was not lit, which indicated that it was not in current use. Jetzan’s keen nose picked up a distant breeze and scent of the meadow flower Oxbrey, a small blue flower which he had seen growing within the grasslands and woodlands near Takrak.
“There’s an exit or air hole up ahead I think.” Declared Jetzan, a slow smile spreading across his strained face which neither companions could see behind his visor.
“I trust your judgment,” replied Gizurr, surprised at the warmth of his own response.
“Aye and so do I,” Ragni added.
Without hesitating, Jetzan led the way forward as they moved slowly into the narrow side passageway. It was barely wide enough to fit more than one person. If they needed to fight, they would have no room to manoeuvre, but neither would their enemy.
Jetzan could sense as he walked that there was a slight incline in the angle of the ground which indicated that the tunnel was slowly leading towards the surface. After what seemed like an eternity, the slight breeze that he had sensed earlier began to become discernibly stronger. Jetzan stopped and his two companions followed suit. They listened.
The sound of trees swaying in respond to a stiff breeze became steadily louder. They could not hear the sounds of any animals or see any sunlight above and Jetzan surmised that darkness of night had now fallen. He moved forward, feeling with his hands and quickly located the edges of what seemed to be a wooden ladder that led up towards to the surface. Without whispering a word, he fumbled for the arm of Gizurr and guided him towards the ladder. Gizurr repeated this action and quietly alerted Ragni of their escape route. Deftly and with great care, Jetzan led first and began to creep up the ladder. From the sounds above he guessed the surface to be some thirty feet away. If anyone looked down into the hole, all they would see would be darkness.
Jetzan was not foolish enough to think that the enemy would be absent. They had created this tunnel for a reason. It was not a ventilation shaft as the ladder indicated that it had been placed there for the enemy to enter and leave at will. The most likely explanation was that it was a surveillance exit, both for monitoring the progress and direction of the tunnel as well as for sending out spies to monitor the activities outside the city of Takrak.
The entranceway would most likely be manned, ensuring the silence of anybody that may stumble upon its existence.
As he neared the top of the ladder Jetzan stopped once more. Slowly, his hand reached down into his right boot and withdrew a long hunting dagger. Clenching the item between his teeth, he continued upwards.
Around a foot from the surface Jetzan stopped climbing once more. He’d placed his feet higher up the ladder while maintaining a crouch position with his legs, ready to jump out of the hole should the need arise. Gingerly he then raised his head and scanned from his new vantage point a circular sweep of the area. From what he could see, they were situated in woodland to the West of Takrak. This made tactical sense as the trees would provide a natural screen of activity surrounding the side tunnel.
Some sixty yards deeper into the woodland the sound of a twig snapping caught the attention of Jetzan. As a tracker by profession, he knew instinctively that the noise was not made by any animal.
Quickly, he assessed how much time he had and judged his exit route to be safest leading towards a dense thicket of bushes. He deftly leapt out of the hole, while holding his backpack close to his body to silence any noise of its clinking contents and quickly crawled into the heart of the thicket. Almost immediately, he was joined by the softly panting bodies of Gizurr and Ragni.
The three companions lay waiting, weapons drawn. The gaze of the Dwarves followed that of Jetzan, who indicated with a brief finger towards his visor and nod into the dense woodland that danger was near.
A second crack of a twig alerted them that something was moving closer to their location, no doubt heading towards the mine shaft entrance. After a few moments a dark figure appeared. It looked human, but the night was dark and looks could be deceiving.
“Where is that blasted hole?” said the voice of what was now clearly that of an elderly sounding human who sounded very irate.
“Ah, there you are,” he continued, oblivious to the presence of the three companions hiding in the thicket.
They watched as he peered over the entrance of the hole, then, muttering to himself with his back turned to them, removed his backpack and started rummaging through its contents. Sensing his chance, Jetzan crawled out slowly from behind the thicket, his dagger clenched once more between his teeth. He had already decided that the human posed little threat in his current state of distraction. He would learn more from capturing and questioning him than from killing him outright.
With a swift lunge, Jetzan grabbed the old man from behind with his left arm and used his right hand to press his hunting dagger across his throat. The old man tried to yell out in fear.
“Quiet!” Jetzan hissed, fearful of alerting others.
The old man immediately did as he was told. “You don’t sound like a stinking Orc, what are you, a robber?” he
asked trembling.
“Not an Orc. I am human like you old man. Explain yourself.” Jetzan spun the man around sharply to face him, his dagger was now poised dangerously above the old man’s heart.
“I’m here to blow that hole to kingdom come.” The man stated who now glared at him with steely blue eyes.
He gestured towards his backpack, “I’ve killed the Orcs guarding it with bear traps and now I’m going to dynamite the rest.”
Appearing out from the thicket both Gizurr and Ragni headed towards the backpack.
“There’s enough dynamite in here to blow up half of Nemedia!” exclaimed Ragni.
Jetzan lowered his dagger,“Where are the Orc bodies?”
“Still in the bear traps, you can go check them out if you want,” the old man replied as he pointed towards the forest depths.
“Take me there and explain who you are and what you’re doing here.” Jetzan commanded, still wary of the old man.
“My name’s Baxan Morholt. Consider me at your service,” replied the old man with a slight bow.
“Speak then.” Jetzan responded, not willing to get on friendlier terms with him until he knew more about him.
Carrying the backpack of dynamite with them, they proceeded to follow the man to check out his story. As they travelled the old man named spoke, “You see, I’ve lived in these woods for some twenty years. They are quite good for hunting grounds you see and generally I am left alone, which I like.” Glancing back briefly at Jetzan he continued, “Just a few days ago, I smelled something different in these woods, it took quite a while for me to remember the stench of Orc.” He snorted, “You tend to notice if Orcs are within a square mile of you.”
“Indeed.” Gizurr growled approvingly.
“Well, Orcs aren’t too bright either. All I needed to do was follow them for a couple of days to see where they went then I set the bear traps. The stupid creatures were dead before they knew what happened.” He nodded towards his backpack that was being carried by Ragni.
“My final task was to close off their access route into my woods.”
“Do you know what that access route was?” Jetzan enquired in a neutral tone.
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Baxan responded.
“By blowing up that hole, all you would have done is slow them down, or worse, alerted them that someone on the surface might know of their plans. Within hours, hundreds of Orcs would be scouring these woods looking to spill your blood!” Jetzan exclaimed.
Baxan froze then turned around to face him. “What plans?”
“There is about to be a major invasion of Takrak. You’ve stumbled upon a side access tunnel. There’s a massive excavation underway underground in preparation for annihilation of the city.” Replied Jetzan, his expression still masked by his visor.
Even though it was dark, Jetzan thought that he could see the colour draining from the old man’s face. “What can I do to help?” whispered Baxan.
“Show me the bodies first. We must hide them quickly to avoid alerting the enemy that we know of their presence. We must then get a message to Jarl Egill in Takrak immediately.” Jetzan instinctively placed his hand on the shoulder of the clearly traumatised old man.
“Down there,” said Baxan, pointing towards a well camouflaged deep pit, where closer inspection revealed the silhouettes of three mangled bodies impaled by wooden stakes.
* * * *
The horses had been well watered and Ethan had the mind to pick up a few apples in Dukar for his horse Bella. Stroking her mane gently he fed the chestnut mare the second to last of his store of apples and she snorted happily in response to the unexpected treat. Ethan smiled at Cara as she petted her own horse that she had fondly named Jet. Her animal was well named. She was as black as night, save for a small white blaze that ran across her forehead.
“Right you two, the day is drawing to a close. It’s time we found a suitable camp site,” stated a cheery sounding Master Bedwyr.
“Master Bedwyr? Do you think that I possess magical abilities?” Ethan enquired.
“Yes I do, but I don’t know yet if you are an Enacter or a Channeler. We can test that once we pitch out camp.” Master Bedwyr nodded towards a copse of trees located some half mile off into the distance.
“What’s an Enacter?” Ethan asked.
“An Enacter is exactly what the name implies. They can make things happen. This can be the elements, fire, wind, air, water, earth. For example, with fire, you can set things on fire or send out fireballs. Earth is more complicated, you can use the forests to bend trees to garrote enemies or make roots sprout from the ground to spear them. You can also make your body into stone, useful if you need some protection no?” Master Bedwyr responded with a quizzical raise of an eyebrow and mischievous glint in his eye.
“Indeed!” replied an excited Ethan, “yes please to trying that out!”
“Tell him what a Channeler does,” interjected Cara who sounded worried.
“Hmm, a Channeler,” Master Bedwyr rubbed his nose then tweaked his spectacles, as he glance over at Cara, “a Chaneler is someone who is able to be a vessel to magnify the powers of another.”
“I don’t think I like the sound of that.” Ethan responded, blinking rapidly.
“There are not many people that can or want to become Channelers and nobody can make a person be one without their consent. It’s not a type of possession. Think of it as someone who magnifies the abilities of another with them both working towards the same goal,” Master Bedwyr explained.
“I will teach you two words of power, and you can try them out to see if you can make a camp fire, that should do the trick for the first test,” he said giving Ethan a smile.
“What are the words?” Ethan asked as he was already impatient to get started.
“We shall start tonight my lad, not now. I don’t want you setting fire to your hair or something if you don’t know how to focus your words properly.”
Master Bedwyr clicked his heels moved his horse ahead of both Ethan and Cara closing off the conversation for the time being. Ethan leveled his horse next to Cara’s and spoke, “Do you know of any Channelers in the Isle of Vallan. Which are you?” he asked, peering curiously at Cara’s face.
“I’m a second level Enacter and no, Channelers are extremely rare.” She held Ethan in a strong gaze and added, “Please know that both I and Master Bedwyr won’t let anything happen to you that may cause you any harm.”
Ethan held her gaze for a while longer, feeling his cheeks redden at the intensity of her gaze.
“I believe you,” he responded, looking away ahead of them to view the growing silhouette of the town of Beshok, still some forty miles off into the distance.
As the day began to draw to a close, they located a small copse of trees nearby to which the pitched camp, rolling out their bedrolls to lie beneath the emerging stars. Ethan could hardly maintain his excitement as he waited for Master Bedwyr to ask him to light the evening fire and he almost ran around at break-neck speed to gather kindling for the evening camp fire. Once he had amassed a sizeable pile of branches and twigs he looked up expectantly at the turned back of Master Bedwyr who stood reading a chapter of the book which he always carried close with him. Ethan recognised it as the book that Master Bedwyr had referred to regarding the prophecies of the Seer that were written over two thousand years ago.
Master Bedwyr turned around still reading the book, a look of intense concentration on his face, his spectacles sliding down his sizeable nose as he did so with his head bent forward.
“Ah yes, so that is what’s needed,” he stated to no one in particular.
“What’s needed?” Ethan frowned in confusion.
“What? Oh, yes, sorry, I was concentrating on something,” he replied, rapidly shutting the book and moving it to his inside breast pocket jacket in one swift action.
Clapping his hands together he gave Ethan an intense stare and motioned him to be seated. Ethan rapidly did as he was bid and
was surprised to feel the warm leg of Cara who was sitting in very close proximity to him.
“Good.” Master Bedwyr nodded approvingly, “Cara, take hold of Ethan’s left hand and Ethan, please raise your right hand above the kindling.”
Ethan did as he was asked and felt Cara clasp his other hand. Her eyes were now closed and she was mumbling words that he did not understand.
“When you announce the words that I am about to tell you, focus upon the wood, and use your will to force it to catch fire.” Master Bedwyr was now kneeling close to Ethan and had both his hands covering the top part of Ethan’s right hand, “speak aloud the words Semper Ignis”.
Ethan looked at the wood pile and repeated the words. Nothing happened.
“Speak the words again,” responded Master Bedwyr, “and believe that the wood will catch fire.”
Ethan eyed the wood pile again and this time imagined the fire burning hot, high and as a ferocious blaze. He could imagine in his mind’s eye the wood glowing hot and that and the heat of the flickering flames, then he spoke the words, “Semper Ignis.”
Immediately he felt a surge of power surge out from under his right hand, he sensed the heat yet the fire did not burn him. Both Cara and Master Bedwyr were mumbling incantations as a faint haze of magic surrounded them to protect them from the stray fire that now burned erratically all around them. “Focus Ethan, focus!” yelled a worried Master Bedwyr, “aim your fire at the kindling only!”
Ethan imagined the flames narrowing down to a singular stream from out of his hand. Almost immediately, in response the fire became directed and the kindling caught alight. “Imagine the flame has stopped now Ethan!” Master Bedwyr exclaimed in excitement, “If you can’t do it, just say Desino to stop it.”
Ethan’s mind was full of awe and he knew instinctively that he would have difficulty this first time in imagining it to stop, so he said the word, “Desino”. In response, the flame immediately ceased from under his right hand and the three companions were left with a sturdy camp fire.