by Nicole Burr
“So the child that Rїvan thought to be his son was really from common farmers?”
“Incredible, isn’t it?” Fynn laughed. “Now only the Keepers know the truth, and te this day all the people of LeVara have no idea that their King is of no more royal blood than ye or I.”
“Jumping jig,” Esra whistled.
“Yer telling me,” Arland continued. “Rїvan raised his son zealously, not understanding why he could not perform even the simplest of magick when he was the product of two such great sorcerers. Yuri ensured that the child looked exactly like him, so there was no doubt who was the father, an accusation she anticipated would come to surface otherwise. After a while it was apparent that the boy had no magickal abilities at all, so Rїvan decided to devote himself instead to having another child. But Yuri had already ensured that the King would not bear another child, neither with her nor any other maiden. She had secured her place as Queen with an heir to the throne that had no drop of sorcerer’s blood in his veins. Rїvan’s most trusted advisors, the Elite Commanders, who were also sorcerers of varying skills, whispered to him of treachery, but the King was too proud to believe that his beautiful wife would betray him. He was the most powerful sorcerer in LeVara. He had killed a King, slaughtered an army, and taken the throne. What could one woman do against such a man?”
“There’s his blunder,” Fynn interjected. “Every man knows not te underestimate the plotting and scheming power of a woman. ‘Specially a pretty one.”
“So then what happened to Rїvan’s real son?” Esra asked Arland.
“Well, the King lost interest in trying to teach a son who could not learn magick, and focused all of his attention on the fruitless task of producing another heir. He became obsessed with it, his frustration growing as time passed. Luckily, this left most of the child rearing to Yuri, who had ensured that the child’s nursemaids were of her own choosing, her most trusted apprentices. This was not a happy time in the palace, as the King was rageful at his bad luck. The Elite Commanders suspicions were heightened, as they were sure that the Queen was deceiving them, but they could find no proof. Although they rarely left the mother alone with her child, Yuri was able to steal small moments to try and teach her adopted son of honor and truth and compassion. Far away in the country, Rїvan’s real son grew older feeling that there was something out of place in his life, that he didn’t quite belong. His parents were simple people, kind and loving, but he knew that there was a power in him they could not explain. A darkness that threatened to overcome him.
“Years later the King finally perished from an unknown illness, Yuri’s doing if ye ask me, and Rїvan’s loyal advisors mourned his death. Frightened that this would signal the end of their claim to power, as it was apparent to them that the Prince could be no son of Rїvan, they went in search of a common man they had heard had been experiencing strange and powerful bursts of magickal abilities. They found him, a farmer planting fields in the hot Sun, and he hesitantly explained to them the nature of his uncontrollable magickal events. The resemblance to his father was indisputable, as if King Rїvan himself stood before them. There was a mixture of excitement over finding their beloved King’s heir and contempt fer the woman they knew had deceived them fer many years. The Commanders then attempted to explain to the boy the nature of his history. Wanting to believe he was a great sorcerer and heir to the stolen throne but unconvinced by the babbling of old men, the advisors went about to prove his heritage and magickal skills.
“Queen Yuri heard of what was happening and that her plan had finally been uncovered. She moved quickly to crown her adopted son, knowing that fer the time being LeVara would be safe under her watch and its new King. The Commanders could not make it known that they had been fooled, they would look weak, and they needed time to train their new sorcerer. They also could not risk an open attack on the throne with a King loyal to Yuri. Her adopted son now commanded a large and powerful army; the army that they knew should have belonged to Rїvan’s true son. The people of LeVara were none the wiser of the King’s common bloodline, as they were overwhelmed with gratitude that he did not take after his father. Eventually Rїvan’s loyal advisors, the first Elite Commanders, convinced their new apprentice of his rightful place. They went into hiding to train him in the magick of shadows, which he would practice until death. He would pass on all of his knowledge and power to his son, who would later become the great great grandfather of Tallen.”
“So why did the descendants of Rїvan wait to take back the throne until now?”
“The Elites did not want to be outwitted again, so they decided that patience would be their greatest strength. They would become such great sorcerers that no one, man or woman, could ever oppose them. By passing on their knowledge of the magick of shadows to their sons, they would grow in power through the generations, eventually becoming unstoppable. They invented new spells, each son growing more cruel and enraged at his stolen birthright. They were angry and dedicated, choosing the path of patient determination. Until now, since Tallen has accomplished the unthinkable by turning non-magickal Humans into sorcerers.”
“Cane said that he had once been Tallen’s teacher.”
“That’s true. Cane once thought that he could save the boy, keep him from the shadows. Although it’s not his fault that Tallen turned to such treachery, as guilty as he feels. Tallen was simply born to do evil things.”
“Oh dear,” Esra sighed. She looked down at her empty bowl, not quite remembering eating, and set it down by the Fire.
Baelin stood and nodded to his Assembly. “I think it’s time we all get some rest. We leave in three hours.”
Esra made her way back to her makeshift bed and pondered this new information, the story of Yuri and Tallen and switched babies. It seemed so unbelievable. But this nightmare of the past was certainly real enough now. She was proud of Yuri and hoped that she would demonstrate the same fearlessness when it came time for her to have courage. If only she could be a great sorcerer and save her Kingdom. But she was only one person. She would just have to do the best she could with what she had been given, which included some very talented friends at least.
“Orro Wey Sim Fira Nadim,” she whispered the words for sight magick as the lines snaked around the soft flesh of her inner forearm. As the map took shape, she traced the outline of the field they were camped in and noted the short distance to the edge of the Trees. Shadow Glenn was just a small clearing in the midst of the dense forest, shrouded in darkness. It was almost upon them, the meeting of the great warrior people. Her first test, a desperate appeal to the Unni-se. Esra just hoped she’d stay alive long enough to meet him.
XXVII
It seemed like only moments since Esra had lain down on the carefully rolled blanket before she was pulled from her dreams by Meshok’s long, wet tongue stroking her face. Her sleep had been troubled and full of glimpses of mysterious terrors. She dreamt that as soon as her Assembly had crossed the Tree line of the forest the world was covered in darkness. There was some type of invisible wall that would not let them pass, and she could feel the dancing shadows of demons slowly overcoming them. Suddenly the Unni-se appeared, raising his flail with a menacing glare. Esra awoke in a cold sweat, wishing she had Arland’s ability to change where her mind went in the night. Perhaps later she would ask him for the favor of another refreshing dream. She gathered her things swiftly while the impatient stamp of Roja’s hooves churned the dry ground. As she tied the last of her things to the Horse’s saddle, she remembered what Baelin had said and made sure that her shortsword hung in its scabbard barely within reach and in plain sight.
Wanting the reassurance of her friend, Esra turned to Meshok, giving her one good ear scratching before the Wolf departed. They all quietly mounted their Skycatchers and followed Baelin’s lead, trotting slowly towards the Tree line. It was a drastic change from the frantic pace they had maintained the past few days. The Assembly was still and pensive, the only sound the slow clicking of hooves a
nd the rhythmic clatter of weapon against saddle. Esra tried not to think about what lay ahead of her. Stay in the moment. Where are yer feet right now? She repeated the things Fynn had told her to help stay out of her head and stop worrying. Let this exact moment be yer focus.
As Esra focused her attention on the gentle rocking of Roja’s strong hips, the Keepers made their way slowly across the wide field. The Sun was close to rising, casting an eerie orange glow over the travelers and their path ahead. The slow, rhythmic sway of riding comforted Esra, and she noticed the forest line was becoming less of a horizon and more like the shape of its individual Yanquor Trees. They would be at the border of Fira Nadim within minutes. She wanted nothing more than to finally arrive, to have an end to the ridiculous anticipation that had been engulfing her more each day.
Esra was alarmed to see a handful of small figures burst from the shelter of the forest, running swiftly towards them. She looked anxiously at her friends, who continued forward slowly with composure. Esra wondered if they were indeed that calm or if it was a learned skill of all Keepers, such determined restraint. Or maybe she really was just making too much of it all, tainted by bad dreams and fear so that she could not see their situation clearly. As the forms came into better view, she counted eight Unni warriors. Her throat was dry as she watched the scouts slow to only fifty feet away, forming a single line directly across their path. Esra noted that the figures were massive, unlike any Human she had ever seen, much bigger than even Baelin. The puffs of their breath in the cool air were barely visible under the brightening morning sky. No one spoke as her Assembly continued forward undisturbed.
They stopped only twenty feet from the line of Unni warriors as Esra’s eyes frantically darted about, trying to stay on guard. The scouts were large and stout, she guessed somewhere between seven and eight feet tall. Even atop a Skycatcher it didn’t feel like the extra height was any real advantage. Two thick, dark horns bowed out from either side of their heads, curling out and upwards from their faces. There was a yellowish tint to their skin, and their bodies were covered in coarse, brown hair, which contrasted menacingly with the dark yellow of their eyes. Aside from the color, their eyes were surprisingly Human, even though their faces resembled a Lion, especially at the mouth and ears. A few of them had varying lengths of their horns cut down as punishment for crimes. They wore little armor, as if the massive breadth of their chest was enough protection. Leather skins were tied about their waists and Esra noticed that none of them wore shoes. She found it hard to believe that the crafty people could not make them, but perhaps their soles were so hardened it did not bother them to be barefoot. They had long hair that some pulled back and others let fall as it may, but the lack of clothes and dark appearance did not give them a disheveled look. No, it seemed as though they knew they looked intimidating and preferred it that way.
Some of the scouts held staffs, some morning stars, others had axes or clubs. Esra noticed with relief that there was at least no archer or ranged weapon. It gave her a momentary sense of comfort that she wouldn’t be picked off unawares by an arrow until she realized that any archers were probably just hiding in the Trees. And the warriors in front of her were certainly strong enough to throw their weapons with great force towards her anyway, twenty feet away or no. There was probably no need for a ranged attack.
For a long moment no one spoke, the two lines at a standstill. It must have been a strange sight in the middle of an open field, eight Unni warriors silently facing five Keepers atop Skycatchers. It was then that the deep, booming voice of Baelin cut through the space between them.
“Mighty Unni warriors, guards of The Forest, we come te ye in peace. I am Baelin, Keeper of Arms, Keeper of Esra, and nephew to Zakai. Unni blood runs in my veins. We are Keepers of the Stronghold seeking council with the great Unni-se.”
The line of warriors appeared slightly taken aback by this declaration but continued to hold up their weapons. An Unni with a club who stood on the end of the row leaned forward and let out a long, low snarl. Some of the others pounded their chest and howled in a display of aggression. Esra, unable to hide the terror on her face, looked towards her friends for a sign to flee. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, marking time with steady rhythm. Ta thump, ta thump, ta thump.
Suddenly the Unni at the center, the only one silent and motionless until now, held up his fist. The others fell immediately quiet, lowering their weapons slowly. The center warrior took a step forward, sweeping his gaze over the five trespassers. Roja whinnied softly under Esra, sensing the discomfort in the air. She noticed that the one who appeared to be the leader had the most notches in his large horns. A chill ran down her spine as she remembered that Cane had told her these were marks earned for kills. When the leader finally spoke, his voice was even deeper than their blacksmith friend and slightly raspy.
“Baelin, Keeper of Arms and Esra, travelers of the Stronghold. It has been many years since yer kind has been allowed te enter Fira Nadim Forest. I know ye are not here te claim a noonmeal chat with long lost family. What business have ye with Zakai, the great Unni-se? Speak and be plain or we shall cut ye down as ye stand.”
There were roars from the line of warriors behind him as Roja stepped about nervously, waiting for the cue to retreat. The center Unni raised his hand impatiently once again and the warriors fell silent. Baelin appeared unfazed as he answered the threatening intrigue.
“Great warriors, as I have said, we come in peace. LeVara is under attack and soon the Kingdom will be controlled by a more formidable foe than Rїvan himself, his descendant Tallen. We seek counsel with the Unni-se on matters of war.”
The center Unni maintained a stone face amidst this revelation. “Yes, we are aware of Tallen. Yet this appears te be a war between Humans, not one that involves the Unni.”
“Perhaps fer now,” Baelin stated simply, “but I fear that Tallen’s appetite fer power is far too strong te be satisfied by conquering one race and only part of the Kingdom. Soon all of LeVara will fall victim te his curse. This situation has not been been forced upon the races in a long time, and it is one that surely merits at least an audience with the Unni-se.”
Esra swelled with pride at the courage of her blacksmith friend, the Fifth of their Assembly. The Unni warrior paused, looking unconvinced as he contemplated Baelin’s words. “An’ who are the rest of yer friends?”
Baelin nodded towards the Assembly as everyone introduced themselves.
“I am Arland, Keeper of Charm.”
“I am Nadia, Keeper of Stealth.”
“And I am Fynn, Keeper of All the Pretty Ladies in the Kingdom,” he said, taking off his cap and swirling it downwards in a fancy bow.
Baelin gave a stern look, causing Fynn to straighten. “And Keeper of Earth, of course.”
Esra wondered how he could be joking at a time like this as she looked towards the center Unni. Her voice came out at a somewhat higher pitch than normal and with a slight waver. “And I am Esra.”
The Unni stared skeptically at the outsiders, brow creased in concentration. Esra worried that they had come this far only to be told it was impossible, that they could go no further. He looked towards her and bent his head slightly. “And what are ye the Keeper of?”
“Um, I’m not sure yet,” she mumbled. “I mean, I’m not, um…”
Baelin interjected quickly. “Esra is in training. She is the daughter of two Great Keepers; Adonis, the Great Keeper of War and Talitha, the Great Keeper of Destiny.”
Rumblings made their way down the line of Unni warriors. The commander looked mildly uncomfortable as he struggled with the difficulty of this decision. Esra held her breath as he took a long moment of quiet deliberation.
“Ye will dismount yer Steeds and surrender yer weapons te us. All of them. We will then escort ye te Shadow Glenn where ye may seek council with the Unni-se. We will let him make the decision of what te do with ye.”
A couple of the warriors growled in protest but were quickly si
lenced by a burning glare from their leader. “Search them.”
Esra and the others leapt to the ground and were swiftly surrounded by the scouts. Before she could object she was being patted down by large hairy hands and stripped of all her weapons, even the small dagger she had carefully tucked into her boot last night. The bright rays of the morning Sun cast a strange glow in the warriors’ dark yellow eyes, causing them to dance with golden flecks. It was an unnerving sight, such Human traits in their Beastly forms. But something about it reminded her of Baelin, and suddenly Esra wasn’t so overwhelmed by fear.
They were herded into a cluster as the Unni encircled them, nudging them forward. Two of the scouts took a strap from the Horses and guided them to the rear of the group. She opened her mouth to tell them the Great Skycatchers need not be herded like livestock, but thought the better of it and kept her mouth shut. Besides, the Skycatchers didn’t seem to mind. In fact they whinnied a little in excitement. Esra took a stumbling step forward, willing her feet to move with the others. After a few tense minutes they came upon the forest line where the enormous Yanquor Trees stood as if fiercely guarding the entry to their home. There was no turning back now.
No one spoke as they crossed the border into Fira Nadim. As she had suspected, a few archers climbed down from their perches and joined the escorted group. Although Esra was fairly tall, the Unni had a much longer stride and she had to jog at frequent intervals to keep from falling behind. They continued this way at length, the breath of the Unni scouts coming out in swift gusts as their Lion-like nostrils flared. In her nervousness, Esra tripped clumsily over a root, scraping her knee against the rough bark of a Tree.
After what felt like hours of silent traveling to her fumbling legs, Esra began to hear the faint sounds of life far ahead of them. They continued steadily through the forest, weaving around the large Trees and stepping over the protruding sea of roots. Distracted, Esra stumbled once more and felt a large hand roughly grab her arm, keeping her from falling. She looked at the Unni next to her and smiled weakly in thanks. The townspeople of Sorley would never believe this story in a million years.