by V K Majzlik
The captors quickly bound their wrists and ankles and forced the trio to sit side by side, their backs to the fire. One of the strangers piled on several more logs, stoking the fire as its flames began to lick around, enveloping the new wood. The three captives sat cross- legged, barely daring to breathe or move.
The tallest of their captors, the only one so far to speak, took several steps forward to stand before them.
“You do not need to fear us. We can be friends.”
With these words he removed his hood. The companions gasped at the sight of the pale slender face and graceful, pointed ears. It was an elf. The other assailants also stepped forward into the firelight, removing their hoods and revealing their faces. Before them stood another tall, elegant elf, a young, untidy-looking clansman, and a tall, well-built and black-skinned figure with a gnarled, ridged nose. Their last attacker was short and squat with a face full of wrinkles. The boys had never seen anyone like these last two.
“These are my travelling companions,” explained the elf. “They, too, wish you no ill-will.”
Nechan could not help but stare at the pointed Elven ears, clearly on show, the silver hair smoothed behind. “You say that, yet you have bound our hands and feet, and entered our camp like you are our enemy.”
“Brave words, and from such a boy.” The untidy young man took a step towards Nechan and crouched before him, studying his face intensely. “You’re a Hundlinger, correct?”
Nechan nodded nervously.
“I have passed through your valley once or twice. You are both a long way from home.” He glanced over at Cradon who was now as white as a sheet.
The elf drew himself up a little. “My name is Eilendan. This is Jaidan,” he said, pointing at the clansman crouched before them. Jaidan leaned forward and to Nechan’s surprise and relief cut the cord that was bound tightly around his wrists, followed by the one around his ankles.
“Is that wise?” The other elf stood over Jaidan, watching as he untied Cradon. Her fine silvery hair glistened in the firelight, with thin wisps caught up in the cool night breeze. Even though filled with fear, Cradon could not take his eyes from her. The stories he had been told did not do Elves any justice.
“You’re not going to try to run, are you?” Jaidan held his short dagger up in front of Nechan’s eyes, a knowing smile fleeting across his, tanned, bearded face. Although he looked like a wild man, there was something trustworthy about his face, and his deep brown eyes spoke friendliness.
Nechan gulped in fear at the sight of the sharp weapon being held so close to his face, and shook his head, stuttering, “No, sir.”
“What of your friend here?” Jaidan pointed at Tavor who still sat bound, a gag tied tightly around his mouth.
“He won’t do anything. This is Tavor, our friend and guide. Please untie him!” Cradon babbled, flushing, knowing he had spoken out of turn.
“Tell me this first. How did two young Hundlinger boys end up travelling with a Brathunder clansman? That’s quite unusual, to say the least.”
“We met him four days ago and he agreed to help us travel through these woods safely.” Nechan was surprised that he was speaking for Tavor, but he felt he owed him this at least. Who knew what these strangers were capable of? Jaidan tapped the dagger on the palm of his hand, pondering Nechan’s words. He glanced at Eilendan, who nodded. Quickly, Jaidan untied Tavor, removing his gag last of all.
“Do I know you?” were the first spiteful words out of Tavor’s mouth. He stared at Jaidan who returned the glare with a stony-faced.
“A fellow Brathunder knows another when he meets one. But, you are not familiar to me.”
“That’s not unusual in this day and age. There are not many of us left.” Tavor stated uneasily, Jaidan’s eyes still fixed upon him. He knew this was going to be a long night.
“Would you mind telling us what you want? Why have you broken into our camp in the middle of the night and tied us up? Who are you?” Nechan felt renewed courage now his bonds had been removed sensng they were not in any immediate danger. Cradon sat in silence, rubbing the raw chaffing marks the coarse rope had left around his wrists and ankles.
The female elf took a step closer towards them, clutching a cloth-covered object in both hands. “There will be plenty of time to answer your questions. First, we have many we want you to answer.” She slipped off the embroidered, silver cloth, and to the twins’ dismay revealed their silver orb, now shining more brightly than ever in her hands. She must have been ransacking their belongings while they slept.
Tavor blinked in the bright light, hardly believing what he saw. How could this all have gone so wrong? Where were Govan and his men?
“Captain?” Javil whispered. “Captain?”
Govan motioned for Javil to be silent and continued watching the scene. They had got there moments too late.
He had two choices. The first was to charge and ambush the group of heavily armed travellers who had already beaten off an attack from the karzon and an uzgen, not to mention killing the original troop that were carrying the Spirit Star. They may out-number them, but they could prove too much even for his men to take on. The second option was to bide his time and wait for the karzon, and then attack. They would hopefully stand more chance of success. At least now they knew for certain that the Spirit Star was in their possession.
“Captain?” Javil asked again, getting impatient just watching and waiting. “Are we attacking? The men are ready.”
Govan considered their options, tempted for a moment to attack. He dispelled this thought and slid silently down the shallow bank to rejoin the rest of his men. They lay waiting, eager to fight, their weapons already drawn.
“We wait for the karzon. Then we attack.” Govan stood and motioned for the men to follow him back into the depths of the woods.
“Captain, should I set up a watch?” Javil queried.
“Yes.” He paused. “But send Thakon, not Falte.”
Javil nodded and motioned to Thakon who sprinted back to keep watch on the events unfolding at the camp.
As soon as they were out of earshot and sight of the campfire and companions, Govan motioned for Falte to join him. Nervously, the young recruit obeyed.
“We have unfinished business, Falte.” In one swift movement, Govan unsheathed his sword and plunged it deep into Falte’s chest, too quickly for him to defend himself or let out a plea for mercy. Govan pulled the sword from his chest with a spray of scarlet, hot blood. He held Falte tightly around the neck with his other hand, staring into the eyes of the dying boy. Govan liked to watch the last moments before death. It gave him a satisfying sense of power and control.
“You betrayed the Empire. Your punishment is death.”
Falte gurgled, blood and frothing saliva dripping from the sides of his mouth as he exhaled his last breath. The eyes clouded, losing the last glimmer of life. Govan dropped the dead body and walked away to rejoin the rest of his men, leaving it to be ravaged by scavengers. No one questioned his actions.
Chapter 21 – New Friends
“We will all make camp here tonight,” Eilendan announced.
Jaidan pulled Eilendan closer, holding his forearm firmly. “Are you sure? With the others out there would it not be better to move on?”
“I’m not sure of anything at the moment,” Eilendan whispered in reply. “But we are all tired. Besides, we can keep a better eye on these three if we stay here, rather than lose them in the woods.”
Jaidan nodded, agreeing with his friend. Something inside was gnawing at his nerves about Tavor. Instincts told him this clansman could not be trusted.
Jaidan and Gaular left the camp following Eilendan’s instructions but returned a short while later leading five horses. The twins and Tavor still sat with their backs to the fire, they had not wanted to move, unsure of their captors’ intentions.
“Pssst…..” Tavor discretely half turned to the boys and whispered, “Why didn’t you tell you had that thing with you?”
It was obviously that he was referring to silver sphere which the female elf had wrapped up in the embroidered cloth. The two elves and Jaidan sat deep in deliberation.
“Ask Nechan,” mumbled Cradon his head hung low.
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t trust you enough. I thought it was important to keep it secret.”
“Well it might have been useful to know. I’d have been more careful if I had known what you were carrying,” Tavor snapped. He was irritated by the night’s events, and still confused and concerned that Govan and his men had not yet made an appearance. Were they watching them, somewhere out there in the dark shadows? He hated the fact he was no longer in control of the situation.
“Would you boys like a drink?” The short, gnarled man came over to them and offered Nechan his brown leather waterskin. Nechan looked at his dirty, hairy hands with blackened, chewed fingernails, then studied the shiny head and crinkled face.
“Go on then, take it.”
Nechan took the waterskin from the man, still staring at him.
“Ahh, I understand,” he laughed. “You haven’t seen someone like me before, have you?”
Nechan shook his head and the strange man sat cross-legged before him.
“Let me introduce myself. I am Gomel, loyal servant of the Gnome king, Gorthel.”
“A gnome?” Tavor was more shocked about meeting a gnome than an elf. Even Barnon had agreed gnomes were wiped out long ago. “But……”
“Let me guess, you thought we didn’t exist! Common mistake….easily made…..if you don’t know where to look!” Gomel lay down on his side and removed a small wooden pipe from the pale leather pouch on his belt. He proceeded to fill it with dark, strongly scented tobacco.
“So where have you all been?” Cradon asked. Even he had become intrigued and no longer looked so solemn and nervous, the colour returning to his cheeks.
“In hiding. Deep under the mountain roots in our kingdom, Ghornathia!”
“Is it dark?”
“Omph!” Gomel laughed raucously, slapping his thigh. “Dear boy! What a question! I guess all your stories about gnomes tell you we live in dirty holes underground!” He could not stop his laughter, genuinely amused by Cradon’s question. “We build the most splendid chandeliers; far more beautiful than you could imagination. We make calcite and halite glow with the light of a thousand candles. You have to see it to truly appreciate it.”
“It sounds exquisite!” Nechan was fascinated. He could not stop studying Gomel’s mannerisms and strange facial features, hanging on his every word, still in disbelief. A real, living gnome was talking to him; it was like a bewildering dream. If only Barnon could be here to witness all of this. “Do you mind me asking, but who’s that man over there?” Nechan discretely pointed towards the large, dark-skinned man, not wanting to make it too obvious.
“Man?” Gomel chuckled to himself again, and took another puff on his wooden pipe, the smell of the tobacco filling the small glen. “That, or should I say He, is a dwarf.”
“But….I thought Dwarves were, well……short?” Cradon said, in as much confusion about this as Nechan. The twins both looked over at the strange being who was meticulously inspecting and sharpening the edge of his comrade’s sword, holding a whetstone in his large hand.
“Well, my friend over there…. Gaular ……is a Dun dwarf. He gets quite uppity about it, just so you know. Make sure you watch your words and mind your manners around him.” He smiled with teasing pleasure as the faces of the two boys dropped. “You’ll find he’s quite quick tempered, whereas I am quite calm and friendly by nature!” Gomel was enjoying his conversation. It was along time since he had talked to any clansman other than Jaidan, and he had forgotten quite how gullible they could be, especially the youngsters.
Gaular looked up from sharpening Eilendan’s sword. He crinkled his nose in disagreement. “Did I just hear you call yourself friendly?” A wide, toothy grin spread across his dark face as he threw back his head in loud, booming laughter. “Friendly? Maybe if you’ve got good food in your stomach and you haven’t been strapped to that horse of yours all day!” The dwarf carried on sharpening the sword, his shoulders still jiggling up and down with laughter.
“I resent that comment, Gaular. I am merely trying to be accommodating and friendly to our new companions.”
“I wouldn’t get too friendly, Gomel. We still know very little about them!” Nymril snapped, clearly unimpressed by the gnome’s friendliness. The elves’ long, deep conversation had now finished and a decision appeared to have been made.
“Nymril, perhaps we should find out more about them now. We must not judge them too hastily.” Eilendan was the calming voice of reason as usual. “Gentlemen, I think that you owe us an explanation.”
“You want to know how we found that.” Nechan pointing at the strange cloth-covered object that now sat in Nymril’s lap.
Eilendan nodded.
Nechan took a breath, glanced at his brother and began divulging the details of their adventure so far. He did not spare the details. He began right from when their parents first decided that they had to leave home, about the fireball and how they found the orb, when and where they met Tavor and finally finishing with how they got to be where they were that night. Barnon would have been proud. Nechan had clearly picked up many tips over the years of listening to his ancient tales and delivered his personal story with great zeal.
When the narration was finished, their captors sat in silence digesting every word they had heard. The story seemed plausible, including how they came to be in possession of the Aeonorgal. Nymril sat with her head in her hands, apparently more confused about what to do now. Jaidan, however, had not yet taken his eyes off Tavor. There was something that just did not feel right about him.
“Runaways! What are we going to do with them now?” moaned Gaular, shaking his head.
“He’s right. This does complicate things.” Jaidan sighed, looking troubled as he studied the twins.
“So, is that thing yours?” Cradon asked. It felt very strange to see someone else holding it.
Nymril nodded, holding back a smile. “It is called the Aeonorgal, or Spirit Star in your tongue. And yes, it belongs to the Elves.” Nymril cupped her hands around it, stroking the heavily embroidered cloth, before finally placing it in her saddlebag. Nechan inhaled sharply, remembering Barnon had mentioned this the last time they spoke.
“Why have you hidden it away? It’s so beautiful.” Cradon longed to look into it one more time and watch the strange mists swirl and glow, encased in their silver prison.
Nymril’s cold, frosty demeanour at last softened, and she gave him a small, understanding smile. “So, you’ve seen its hidden secrets, clansman?” Perhaps they were harmless after all. Most evil, be it beast or man, could not bear to be in the presence of the white light, and only the strongest-willed such as the Rjukhan could bare to touch or look into the Aeonorgal. These two boys must be pure-hearted.
“Perhaps you would like this back too? I assume that it also belongs to you.” Nechan pulled out the silver chain and precious locket that Barnon had given him. Although he did not want to part with it, he knew that it did not really belong to him.
“You have an aeonthel,” Nymril gasped, outstretching her hand. “Only Aeon Elves such as myself possess these. Where did you find this?”
Nechan let it fall into her small palm, the silver chain coiling. She studied it closely, inspecting the intricate engravings, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is……I can hardly believe it. This is the aeonthel that belonged to Gileadon. It was assumed lost or destroyed. How did it come to be in your possession?”
“A friend of mine was given it by his father and he gave it to us. He said it had been in their family for many generations,” Nechan explained, his cheeks flushing with awkwardness.
“What does this mean, Nymril?” Eilendan asked.
“I am not sure yet.” She moved to hang it around her neck, but something stayed her han
d. In her heart she knew the aeonthel had entered the boy’s life for a reason. He carried a strange aura about him, one that she had not seen before in a clansman. Much to Nechan’s surprise, Nymril placed the shining sphere back onto his shaking palm. He paused for a moment, not understanding. The elf nodded and Nechan hung it back around his neck, hiding it under his tunic once more.
“Nymril?” Eilendan was just as surprised as Nechan.
“I do not understand yet, but I am sure all will become clear upon our return. The Elders may know what the Earth Spirits’ wishes are.”
“Return?” Tavor piped up. “So you will be leaving us here?”
“No. You have witnessed too much. You will have to accompany us.” Eilendan commanded.
“What? Why?” Tavor shouted defiantly. “You will have to force me. And, I will not let you take these two young boys out into the wilderness with you.” He was hoping to delay, buying time for Govan to come to his rescue. The comrades did not take kindly to his outburst and immediately drew their weapons, expecting Tavor to charge them.
“Force you we can, but that is not our wish.” Eilendan held the tip of his sword towards Tavor who stared defiantly back.
“Why would a Brathunder turn down an opportunity to walk with Elves once more? Perhaps he has something to hide? My advice would be to slay him here,” Jaidan hissed through clenched teeth, an arrow poised and ready to fire on command.
“Please, wait! Wait!! He’s our friend. Please don’t hurt him.” Cradon sprang up to stand in front of Tavor, blocking their target.
“Cradon is right. Perhaps if you explain why we have to go with you and for how long, that will help,” Nechan implored. He might not have trusted Tavor, but he certainly did not want to see him killed.
Jaidan cast a glance at Eilendan, waiting for his command.
“Stop!” The clansman relented. “I will go with you.” Tavor pushed past the twins, holding his arms in the air. He was unsure whether he was doing the right thing, but after much deliberation with himself he had decided that the best course would be to stay with the group and wait for Govan’s ambush. Returning to the Empire as a failure would certainly mean death. This was his only hope.