Even so, he kept his guard up, his spear in hand and fang blade loose on his belt. He continually probed his surroundings, sensing for life. It had taken some time to get used to all the fae. Even though he could not penetrate past the surface of their minds, he could still sense them, all of them, and their numbers had swelled with new fae joining along the way.
He thought again on why he could mind touch with some creatures and not with others? They felt the same as any other mind, floating out there. He could sense them easily enough, but he couldn't enter. It was almost as if pushing on a thin soft membrane and made Ghile think of the surface of water. He just pushed his mind through like a finger and he was in. Though, try as he might, he couldn't push his way into the fae's minds. It was similar with humans. He wondered if it would be the same with dwarves and that made him shudder. That was a question for another day.
He sensed the minds of some of the Deepwood's larger denizens, great cats, which did nothing more than crouch hidden amongst the limbs and stare at the passing host. He had mind touched with the predators, pushing his way in easily, and found only acceptance of the fae passing nearby. It was as if the Fae pacified all they came in contact with. It wasn't the same haze that Ghile had found on Ast and Cuz when they succumbed to the fae's poison, covered in that strange purplish liquid. It was different, more natural, but still felt magical to him.
The fae had never spoken to a human before. And now that their opportunity was before them, their questions seemed endless. Ghile, too, tried to take advantage of his first meeting with them and did his best to squeeze his own questions in between theirs.
“Gutroot, earlier one of you said I wasn't marked. What did that mean, I wasn't marked?”
Gutroot was just taking in breath to ask his next question and cocked a bushy black eyebrow at him in irritation at being interrupted.
“Marked by the Alvar. Once was only humans and dwarves whose faces were covered in blue, like so”, Gutroot covered half his face with his hand, “were to be left alone.”
The other hobs around them echoed the word, blue, over and over, to the delight of the other fae.
“By the Alvar?” This question from Ghile sent the Hobs into a chorus of, Alvar.
When Gutroot spoke, his words were almost reverent. “Yep. The Alvar are keepers of the forest. The daughters of Islmur.” The nearest pixies swooned at the mention of Ismur.
The Alvar were what Ghile knew as elves. He knew the legends of the elves from Riff. They protected their forest home from all others. They had also taken part in the Great Purge, slaying humans along with the dwarves until the druids awoke Allwyn to save the human race.
“Alvar are real smart,” Gutroot continued. “They tell us to keep those who are not marked out of the forest. So that is what we did.”
“Did?”
Gutroot nodded. “Yup. Things have changed. Alvar said all must be turned back now.”
Gutroot made a motion that seemed to be a shrug, or at least would have been if Gutroot had shoulders.
“Strange since it has always been the way to leave the marked ones alone and attack the rest.”
“But not kill them,” Ghile stated more than asked.
Gutroot shook his head. “Nope. We capture them and take them to the edge of the forest, to Dagbar's domain. When they awake, they don't remember a thing. Pixie poison packs a punch, puts them right out and makes them forgetful, too.” A number of pixies flew past giggling and shaking their bows at Ghile, their little angular faces full of pride.
“But why allow any to enter?” Ghile said.
“The Alvar will explain,” Gutroot said, his voice filled with more than a little exasperation.
Ghile received that answer all too often from Gutroot, but there was nothing for it. Once his line of questioning arrived at that answer, Ghile knew he would receive no further answers. If they told the fae not to kill trespassers, then they couldn't be as bad as the legends, could they? And if they were as wise as Gutroot said, then maybe they could help him find a way to save Akira and her brother. Maybe even help him remove the soulstones?
Keep dreaming, sheepherder, Ghile heard Riff's voice in his head.
“Are you taking me to their village, Gutroot?”
Gutroot stared through Ghile for a moment. “You humans are none too bright, eh?”
Ghile didn't know how to respond to the blunt statement. Apparently Hobbs were not ones to mince words. He wasn't offended, so he could only shake his head and grin.
“Villages? Towns? That stuff is for your lot,” Gutroot said. He motioned all around him. “This is home. Home for us and home for the Alvar.”
“Then how do you know where to find them?”
Gutroot made swishing movements with his hand. “Not a problem. They don't tend to move about much. There was one down by the river not two moons ago.”
Ghile blanched.
“Two moons? You mean two full cycles of the moon?”
Gutroot thought for a moment and then nodded.
“What makes you think the Alvar is still there?”
Gutroot gave Ghile another blank stare and shook his head, mumbling. Ghile could just make out the words, “none too bright.”
The sound of flowing water filled Ghile's ears long before he reached the riverbank. The forest abruptly ended where the river, easily fifty spans across, cut through it like shears through wool. The river split the canopy, revealing the deepening sky overhead.
His guides turned to follow it upstream. The fading light seemed to have as little effect on the fae as it did on him. At least as far as the ability to see. As the darkness thickened their twittering and singing grew silent. Gutroot and the other hobs watched their surroundings as much as Ghile. But, they continued along the river. Sometimes the large roots caused them to go well away from its bank, but he could still hear it flowing nearby.
The ground began to rise, the river sometimes crashing down where it cascaded over a ledge or thundered down a steep bank. The fae's antics brought a grin to Ghile's face during those times for the sprites would swoop down to scoop up the Hobbs and carry their grumbling passengers over the harder to climb areas and then return them to the forest floor. The hobs would shake fists at their departing helpers and then continue on their way, only to have the whole spectacle repeated at the next patch of difficult ground. The pixies, with their bug-like legs, leaped along and cleared the obstacles with practiced ease.
It was just when Ghile thought they would walk long into the night that the Fae around him became excited. Gutroot took to jumping up and down and pointing. The other Hobbs began croaking and pointing as well. Ghile could make out the word Alvar in their croaks, but all he could see along the bank of the river were trees and undergrowth. He assumed the Alvar would be experts at blending in with their forest home, so he searched intently, watching between the trees for any movement.
Ghile's breath caught in his throat. Before him, next to the river, a small tree, one of its slender branches touching the water, turned to regard him. He knew immediately it was female, that it was a she. And she was beautiful. Where there should've been a trunk, he could make out a body and two long thin legs, the white bark was freckled with grey diamond shaped specks. What he had mistaken for a branch touching the water, was her arm. Her willowy fingers still gently stirring the water's surface. Where there should've been hair were small light green leaves, a silver sheen playing throughout. It reminded Ghile of the school of minnows he use to chase through the shallow blue waters along the shore of Crystal Lake. The silvery leaves framed a long face and fell paste lithe shoulders.
But, what captured him more than anything else were her eyes. They were large, taking up more than twice as much space as a human's and a radiant blue. Even from this distance, he could see little specks of light flowing through them like a river of stars.
The Alvar rose. She towered over Ghile, easily twice his height. Ghile wondered if all Alvar were so big. With a start, he real
ized what he had mistaken for bark was smooth multi-hued skin. She moved slowly, gracefully, and he could only stand and stare. It was when he realized her body was also proportioned like a woman and she wore not a stitch of clothing that he lowered his gaze. He could feel the blood racing to warm his face.
The Fae, spinning and dancing, rushed towards her. Many of them landing upon her shoulders and outstretched arms. That was when Ghile heard the song of the Alvar for the first time.
Ghile couldn't put into words what he heard other than to say it was like hearing pure emotions. His ears ached. He shuddered as his skin erupted in goosebumps. Beneath the song, through the power of the soulstones, Ghile understood.
“This one's soul sings at the sight of you, little ones.” Those sapphire eyes never left Ghile.
“Why have you brought this human to me? Please tell this one. Why you have done this?”
Ghile wondered how she could understand anything in the outpouring of answers from the fae. Ghile could only make out a few replies in all the twitters, clicks and croaks. The Alvar seemed to have no trouble and listened patiently, nodding slowly and then, seeming satisfied, began to approach Ghile.
If someone had asked him how a tree might walk he would've described a lumbering beast, heavy roots dragging across the forest floor. But, he knew his description would be forever changed, the Alvar was anything but cumbersome. Her movements were grace itself. She appeared to glide more than walk, floating on tiny feet.
Ast and Cuz trotted forward, tails wagging.
“Ast, Cuz, Stay!” He said the command with some trepidation, his eyes on the Alvar. Would she understand? Would she hurt them for being here, with a human? The valehounds ignored him.
Ghile mind touched them and they both dropped down on their haunches.
The Alvar stopped as well, then tilted her head slightly. She knelt down and reached out a long slender hand towards the Valehounds, her fingers twice as long as a human's.
“This one knows sorrow. For now it knows why the little ones were unable to make you sleep. This one was told of your coming, Stonechosen.”
Ghile was so shocked he lost his mind connection with Ast and Cuz. They sprang forward and ran to the Alvar, who stroked their hair.
Questions raced through his mind, each one pushing past the others and demanding to be first.
“I'm Ghile…and yes, I'm stonechosen. But how-”
“This one could feel you reach out to them.” She looked to Ast and Cuz, who acted like they had known her their whole lives and were not being stroked by some strange living tree they had just met.
She rose and stepped forward to tower over Ghile. “This one is Arenuin of Arenell of Areduin of Arethell of…”
The names continued. Ghile blinked. What should he do? This was the first elf, Alvar, he had met. Did he shake her hand? His need to be well mannered fought with his need for answers. What did she mean she felt him reach out to them? She could sense him using the power of the soulstones? Who told her of his coming? He found himself staring at her skin. From a distance it had looked like bark. He could tell now it was as smooth as his own. He could hear his mother's voice in his head reminding him of his manners. He stabbed his spear in the ground and presented his open palms, head bowed and eyes averted. Arenuin had apparently reached the end of her lineage.
“I…I'm honored to meet you, Arenuin of…of…the Alvar,” Ghile said.
He waited for some response, but none came. It was Ast and Cuz's deep throaty growls that made him raise his head. Arenuin was looking into the forest, her starry eyes unblinking.
“What is it you two?” Ghile said. He reached out with his mind even as he spoke. The Valehounds enhanced senses assaulted his mind. An acrid scent of musk mixed with the putrid smell of spoiled meat. He could feel their ears, his ears, perk up to catch the snap of twigs and the crunch of debris beneath fast moving feet.
“Gather to me, little ones, it is the fallen!” Arenuin said. “This one would take you now and treestep from here, Ghile Stonechosen, but she will not leave the little ones to these abominations.” With that, Arenuin widened her stance and lifted her long slender arms to the sky. “This one asks Ghile Stonechosen to stay close.”
Gutroot and the other land bound fae darted forward to take up guarded positions around Arenuin's feet. The sprites flew in to swarm around her, streaks of color blending together like a rainbow cloud. At any other time, Ghile would have found the scene breathtakingly beautiful. But the fearful faces of the fae and the foreboding silence that descended upon them chilled his heart. Even Ast and Cuz stopped growling and waited.
Ghile found he was holding his breath.
Everything happened at once. Pale white forms exploded through the surrounding foliage. Arenuin began to sing. Ast and Cuz charged forward.
The creatures seemed to come from every direction at once. There were too many to count. Ghile had stones in his hand, but he didn't remember drawing them from his pouch. He could feel his heart beating in his ears but it couldn't drown out the guttural shrieks, barks and howls, all in sharp contrast to Arenuin's song.
A white hairy shape leaped in the air towards him, all four clawed limbs brought to bear. Stones flew from his hand, driven by the power of the soulstones. The sounds of impact were muted by everything else, but the creature's shudders with each impact followed by red explosions behind it told Ghile it was dead even before it crashed at his feet.
He barely had time to take in its white milky eyes and red veined muzzle before two more reared up before him, clawed hands swinging. His force shield sprang into being and he felt their muted blows as they were batted away. These creatures were strong.
Ghile could hear Two Elks voice, “You think too much before you do.” This was his test, then. This was what he had been training for and he would not fail.
He saw Ast roll across his vision, tangled up with one of the creatures, this one shaped like a small human. He reached out with his mind and pushed a force shield through and then around Ast. The creature was pushed back, but Ast lay there on the ground, unable to move.
This would not do. He had to protect them and himself, but also allow for movement. He re-envisioned the force shields surrounding him and Ast. He even reached out and mindtouched with Cuz. He pictured individual plates, similar to the Cullers metal armor, covering him and the two valehounds, covering them, but allowing for movement. If he had stopped to think about how many individual shields he had just created, they probably would have vanished, his own doubts defeating him. But he didn't think, he just reacted.
The spear he had stabbed into the ground was in his hand and then pushed through one of the two dead ones, for that was what these things were, the fallen, Arenuin had called them. Whatever they were called, he would not let them hurt Arenuin or the Fae.
He drew his fang blade and heard, “For the Cradle,” echo above the din. It sounded like it came from some stranger and not his own throat. He pushed into the second one, swinging and stabbing.
Another fallen slammed into his back and took him to the ground. He could feel it raking with its feet and hands, unable to penetrate his force shield. It even tried to lock its muzzle on his neck, shaking from side to side, trying to squeeze the life out of him. The other charged in and grabbed him by the leg, it also tried to bite through the force shield.
He imagined the force shield on his back getting thin as a spear and then quickly stabbing forward. He heard the yelp and the pressure holding him down was gone. He replaced the image with the flat plates again and pictured the shield over his leg a mass of sharp jutting spikes. Another screech and the pressure there was gone, too. He rolled over and pushed out with his force shield as he had done when sparring Two Elks in the Ghost Fens. He landed on his feet.
One of the fallen, a vargan, was on its knees, clutching its chest, blood streaming through its claws. The other, a human male, lay motionless on the ground, several holes oozing from its head and hands.
A
tree branch crashed down at the same time as the ground erupted beneath the wounded vargan, hurling a boulder up to smash the fallen between wood and stone in a burst of splintered bone and inky gore.
Ghile only had a moment to leap aside as the remainder of the branch crashed over him. He flew into the air with the added help of his force shield, used it again to push off another swinging tree limb, and then extended one hand above him to create a wide shield to catch the air and slow his descent.
For the first time in what seemed like an hour, but was not more than a minute, Ghile took in the battle. Arenuin still stood in the center of it all, surrounded by the fae. All around her was chaos, the forest had answered her call. Trees slammed the ground with their limbs, the ground exploded as stones flew forth and then rolled over the fallen. The river surged up from its bank to slam down with thunderous retorts. Even the wind buffeted the fallen.
Animals had answered the call as well. A black cat, larger than the valehounds rolled on the ground with one of the fallen, its rear black claws raking gashes in the pale body as it held the creature's head in its jaws. Across the battlefield an elk, its bony rack impaling two fallen, drove forward pumping its back legs, ignoring their gnashing jaws and clawed hands. A myriad of ravens circled above the tumult, diving down to tear at white flesh.
That was when Ghile realized none of the fallen attacked Arenuin or the fae. All milky pale eyes, not fighting or dodging, turned skyward to follow his descent.
They were after him.
He was glad he ignored Arenuin's request to stay near her and the fae, though he could see the wisdom of it. The forest, responding to her magic, heaved, trying to drive off the fallen. It was chaos and he was quickly dropping back down into the middle of it.
Time of the Stonechosen (The Soulstone Prophecy Book 2) Page 19