by Logan Petty
Banthan snorted, “You put too much faith in that tubby lout, Sawain. He’s so useless! First he gets the wrong map, then he can’t even find north!”
Sawain’s temper flared, “Can you find north, Banthan?”
Banthan was silenced for a moment by the ferocious edge in Sawain’s voice, “Well… No.”
Sawain snarled at him, “Then shut up.”
Banthan opened his mouth then shut it again. He reminded Sawain of one of the fish in Mistveil Farm’s pond. He turned to Mari, who sat against a large tree trunk and stared off into the darkness.
“Are you alright, Mari?”
She snapped back to the world of the living with a start and looked to Sawain with wide eyes. She gave him a forced smile.
“I’m fine. It’s just not every day that you almost get turned into a pile of smoldering goo.”
Sawain sighed, “In our line of work? I’m afraid it’ll come up more often than we’d like.”
Mari nodded and turned her gaze back to the darkness. She spoke again.
“You think I’m really cut out for this, Sawain? I mean, all I ever seem to do is get chased by monsters. I feel so useless.”
Sawain sat down beside her, “That’s not true. Your music has a magic in it that none of us can even come close to. I’ve never even met anyone who could use magic without shedding their own blood.”
She smiled and dropped her gaze to the bough they sat on, “Well, that’s just because The Bardsong isn’t true magic. It’s more of a mental weapon. Kind of hard to explain, really. Mostly because I only half listened to the stories my mother told me about it.”
Sawain nodded and felt enlightened, “Well, either way, it’s indispensable to the team. As far as being monster bait is concerned, I’ll try to make sure everyone takes a turn now and then.”
He gave her a wink and she giggled. He could tell she was already feeling better. She looked at him again.
“Thanks, Sawain. You know, you’ve got a way with words that would make the bards proud. You sure you’re of druidic stock and not bardic?”
Sawain shrugged, “I’m not usually very good with words. You know, before I came to Alfhaven, my words were always getting me into trouble. Guess I’m starting to grow up.”
Mari nodded, “Good thing, too. We’re not playing training games in the tangle anymore, are we?”
It was Sawain’s turn to stare into the darkness, “No, I suppose not.”
Banthan slumped down beside Loraleth, just inside Sawain’s peripheral. He pulled his knees up to his chest. Loraleth placed her head on his shoulder.
“Cheer up, brother. You know, if you weren’t shooting off all the time, I wouldn’t have to keep making you feel better all the time.”
Banthan muttered to his sister. Sawain could barely hear him.
“You say that every day. It’s so annoying. I don’t need to be cheered up.”
Loraleth shuffled through Banthan’s dark locks of hair with her fingers, “I think you do.”
Banthan knocked her hand away, “Cut it out, alright?”
Loraleth draped her arm around Banthan’s shoulder, “You know, there’s no sense in shutting me out. I’m your twin. If you’re sad, I’m sad, and I don’t like being sad. Come on, Banth.”
Banthan did not respond. Loraleth sighed, “Fine, we’ll just sit here and be sad together.”
Banthan muttered to his sister, “Why do you always want to be in the same mood I’m in? You’ve got it good. Everyone thinks you’re great. You’re one of the rising stars. I’m just the smart mouth that no one likes.”
Loraleth clicked her tongue, “That’s not true, I like you.”
Banthan snorted, “You have to.”
Loraleth laughed, “I don’t have to. I could hate you too, but I choose to like you. You’re my brother and my best friend. We’re inseparable!”
Banthan was quiet for a moment. He muttered to her again.
“Sorry, sis. I don’t mean to be a pain, it just happens, you know?”
Loraleth smiled, “You’re not a pain to me, Banth.”
Banthan smiled back, “Thanks for always having my back, sis.”
She gave him a quick hug, “Any time, brother.”
The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Tobi spent the night away from the main group, his nose buried into the new book he brought with him. Even at dinner time, he ate alone. Sawain was worried about him, but he left him alone. He had faith that Tobi would get them on the right track again.
An hour passed and everyone settled into slumber fairly quickly. Sawain was one of the last to fall asleep. He sat with his back against the same trunk as Tobi, though on opposite sides. He heard the pages of Tobi’s book flip from time to time, but no other sound from his friend. They came at intervals of two minutes like clockwork. The flipping sounds lulled Sawain into a deep sleep.
The turning pages morphed into drips. Sawain thought it was water at first. But then he smelled the strong, familiar scent of blood. A voice called out to him. It was a low growl, as cold as death.
“Where are you, Thrallborn? I know you’re there. I can smell your fear.”
The voice was so familiar. Sawain’s heart filled with dread. He was standing on a dark hill. Everything around him was set ablaze. Great flames licked at the sky from every direction. The stars were blotted out by thick smoke. He looked toward Anvilheim. All he could see was a pair of wicked, yellow eyes.
“Wake up, Sawain.”
Fangs ripped at Sawain’s throat. He opened his eyes and screamed. When the world came back into focus, he realized that he was sitting in the darkness of Alfhaven, surrounded by his team mates. Loraleth jumped away from him when the terror tore from his lungs.
Was she the one calling for me? No. that doesn’t make sense. What was that?
He blinked several times until reason returned to his fevered mind. Jatharr whispered hoarsely.
“Keep it down, lad! You want more wild animals to come running?”
Sawain signed to Jatharr,
Jatharr snorted, “You know I don’t know that hand talk you elves are keen to.”
Sawain whispered back, “Sorry. I’ll teach it to you later.”
Jatharr nodded, “Aye. In the mean time, you might want to see this.”
Sawain rose to his feet. He was stiff from sleeping in the tree. He worked the stiffness out with a stretch and nodded to Jatharr.
Jatharr led Sawain to a spot not far from their camp. He pointed to a dim flicker of orange in the distance. I was hard to make out through the trees, but it was without a doubt the flicker of firelight. Sawain glanced at Jatharr.
“What do you think it is? Enemy campfire?”
Jatharr shrugged, “Could be, but why would undead need a camp fire? Same could be asked about the Dark Elves. Might be a village. Might be a trap. Yer leader of this outfit. How do you want to approach it?”
Sawain sighed, “With caution. Whatever it is, we don’t want to rush in without knowing what is going on. We will regroup and go in quietly. If they’re friendly, then great. If it’s a trap, maybe we can get the jump on our ambushers.”
Jatharr smiled, “You have grown up in the last year, haven’t you lad?”
Sawain shrugged. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks, “We’d better get back.”
Jatharr nodded and the two comrades fell back to the camp. Everyone was up and ready when they returned. Sawain signed to the group.
The team nodded acknowledgment and spread out. Jatharr stuck close to Sawain this time. Sawain preferred this. He felt confident in the halfling captain’s fighting prowess and experience. Sawain signaled the direction they were to move in and the Ghosts complied.
They slowly and quietly crept closer and closer to the light. The nearer they drew to it, the more their formation spread until the
light grew brighter and warmer. Soon, Sawain could hear the crackle of flames. The smell of blood drifted to his nostrils. This ominous scent quickened the pace of his heart and his feet.
There must have been a battle here.
He silently edged around a tree and was able to see into the clearing. The sight was completely horrifying. It was indeed a small treetop village. Flames ate away at the crippled structures that were once houses. Blood spattered the boughs and trunks in the proximity. Headless bodies hung out of windows or dangled across branches. In the center of town, Sawain could see a gruesome effigy set up on a pile of headless corpses. The attackers set up a sort of tree made of spears lashed together. Each spear had skulls pierced though on its shaft from butt to spearhead. It resembled a ghastly tree of skulls. Sawain noticed that the flesh still clung to the heads and all of their lower jaws were torn away.
He waited for his team to move into position and prayed that none of them would give in to the grotesque display in the middle of the village. Several minutes passed before he saw the in position sign from Loraleth and Banthan on either side. He gave them both a signal.
He allowed the signal a few seconds to get around, then drew his sword and stepped into the clearing. The other Ghosts slipped in from their vantage points. Now that he could see their faces well, he noticed that everyone wore the same horrified look he wore. They closed in on the center of the village. Sawain kept his eyes peeled for movement, but there was none.
The outriders stood around the effigy, unable to look away from it. The skulls belonged to elves. Sawain read about the villages outside of the city that preferred a quiet rural life, usually protected by one or two druids. It looked to him as if the druids failed their mission to protect this village. Anger churned in his stomach.
“Who could have done this?”
Jatharr cleared his throat, “Have you ever heard of a Tree of Souls?”
Banthan piped up, “I have. It’s a terrible effigy. Those that use it are so cruel that they kill everyone, young and old, in a settlement or village. They then find a large tree, like an oak, and nail the bodies to the tree, covering its trunk and branches with corpses. They say that construction of a Tree of Souls condemns the constructors to eternal unrest. Their souls are bound to the place the tree is constructed. Well, that’s what they say, at least.”
Jatharr nodded, “That’s the idea, more or less, though the berserker clans of the Southern Fells never care for the spiritual side of anything. They view it as the ultimate display of power. Only thing is, outside of Alfhaven’s borders, there are not many big trees in Jordborg. It’s a very hilly, sandy place, especially closer to the coast. The barbarians of the south developed a smaller, just as suitable version of the Tree of Souls. They call it the Tree of Skulls. They decapitate their victims and rip off their lower jaws, just for added gore. They then run them through several spears, covering the spears completely. Then they lash it all together, usually with their enemies’ entrails and plant it on a mound of bodies. It’s a symbol of ultimate victory.”
The rage brooded inside of Sawain like a tempest, “So, you’re saying that Jordborg is responsible for this atrocity?”
Jatharr shrugged, “I can’t say, really. Best not to go accusing an entire country of such an act. It could have been the independent actions of one vengeful clan, or even a clan under the Grey King’s control. Don’t forget, the raiders that attacked Captain Nerelis’ team were riding Bjornhunds, meaning they were likely orcish raiders. The same effigy could be popular in the tundras of the Frostwylde. We may be looking at the first traces of war in Alfhaven, either way.”
Mari looked as if she would vomit at any moment, “So, what do we do now?”
Sawain looked around. His eyes settled on a ruined house with burning limbs sticking out of it. He also noticed a sign with arrows on it.
“For now, we show these people some respect. Banthan, you and Naralei gather any bodies you find and place them around the tree, then burn it. Mari, Timbrel, Jatharr, you’re on fire duty. Don’t let it spread to the rest of the forest. Loraleth, try to pick up their trail.”
Everyone nodded and broke away from the tree. Tobi hesitantly walked up to Sawain.
“Does this mean I’m with you?”
Sawain nodded. In all of the excitement, he forgot about Tobi. He felt bad about it, so he tried to play it off. He walked up to the sign he spotted. It was in elven, but he could read some of the names. Two in particular jumped out. One read ALFHAVEN and the other, pointing in almost the opposite direction read BITTERDEEP BOG.
Sawain sighed with relief. If nothing else, this gruesome discovery shed some light to their path. Tobi stared at it. Sawain glanced at him and saw the cheer and hope drain from his face. This concerned him.
“Tobi, are you alright?”
Tobi’s gaze dropped to the ground, “Now that you know which way Bitterdeep Bog is, I guess you don’t really need me around. I’m sorry, Sawain. I’m just no good.”
Sawain placed his hand on Tobi’s shoulder, “Don’t say things like that, Tobi. I’ve told you before, I wouldn’t have you on this team if I didn’t have faith in you. So, you messed up. We’re all fresh from the city. It’s bound to happen. Don’t let it get you down. You’ll have more chances to shine.”
Tobi looked better already. He smiled weakly at Sawain.
“Why do you always stop and take time to cheer me up? Everyone else would rather leave me behind.”
Sawain forced a smile, against the will of the churning rage in his soul, “That’s what friends do, Tobi. We stick together, no matter what.”
Tobi smiled. This time, it was a real smile.
“I won’t let you down again, Sawain. I won’t be a burden to the Ghosts. I promise.”
Sawain nodded. Loraleth slipped up from behind.
“Sawain, I found their trail. It wasn’t hard. They’re heading that way.”
She pointed in the direction she found the trail. Sawain glanced at the sign and noticed it was the same direction as the arrow for Alfhaven was pointing. He snorted.
“They’re heading for the city.”
Loraleth looked relieved, “Well, judging by the size of their trail, I can assure you that’s a suicide mission. They must be fools to try to attack the city in such small numbers.”
Something about the situation did not sit well with Sawain, “Maybe we can cut them off before they get to the city. If they hit another village, it could have the same results. If this is the same enemy that nearly wiped out Captain Nerelis’ team, then I don’t think we should take them lightly.”
Naralei appeared from Sawain’s right. She still looked weak from all of the blood loss she sustained the day before.
“Sawain, are you forgetting our mission? We have direct orders from Lady Tirinele to go to Bitterdeep Bog and not engage this new enemy. Let the more experienced teams and the Arborgard handle them. If you really want to stop them, then the answer most likely lies within that swamp.”
Jatharr stomped at some flames licking a nearby tree, “She’s right, lad. We need to get you to this Sibilach witch. If we don’t, Turin may kill us all!”
Sawain sighed. He glanced toward Alfhaven, then back to the sign. He read the words on it over and over again as he struggled to come to a decision. He was afraid that his blood lust would consume him if he ignored it, but he had to consider his entire team. He looked around at them. Everyone stopped what they were doing to wait for a decision.
They’re right. If I really want to stop this war, I have to press on with my quest. If I get distracted and go chasing after these things, I could throw everything away. Everyone who died on my account would go unavenged. Hilmr would never taste justice. The Grey King will destroy everything.
He nodded and glanced around again, “Right. Let’s get this mess cleaned up, then we will make haste for Bitterdeep Bog. The only way to stop the Grey King from taking our home is in there. We will
avenge every murder these monsters are responsible for. To do that, though we have to press on.”
Everyone looked encouraged by Sawain’s words. They went back to their chores briskly. Sawain stared at a flame near his foot. He thought of the lives lost. He thought of his own rage toward this injustice. He watched the flame grow larger while he thought on the horrors of war they were about to wade into. He thought long and hard, then stomped the flame out.
Chapter 13
Sawain’s team moved quickly and quietly through the dark tangle of Alfhaven Forest. The gruesome image of the makeshift Tree of Souls was seared into Sawain’s mind. Though they tore it down and burned the bodies, he could still see it. Though they left the bloody site four hours ago, he could still smell the carnage. His emotions churned like a violent storm in his chest. He nurtured it as he ran along the woven branches of the Forest’s treetops. He stoked the hatred in his heart for the creatures that so brutally slaughtered that village of innocents.
I will avenge those who have fallen some day. When I find this witch and gain the power to freely wield Turin’s wrath, I will come back for them. When I do, I will bring judgment on their heads.
They continued onward for another hour at a fast pace. Sawain found himself irritated at just how vast Alfhaven was. He noticed Naralei stop suddenly out of the corner of his eye. He skidded to a halt and looked at her, expecting an attack.
Sawain did not want to rest, he wanted to get to Bitterdeep Bog. He glanced around at his breathless team mates. Tobi and Jatharr were both bent double. Tobi was trying to suppress a silent wretch. Much to his ire, he was exhausted as well. He only noticed the burning in his lungs and the weariness in his muscles now that they stopped.
Everyone huddled around an old oak and found a branch to settle into. Tobi set up on the branch next to Sawain. Loraleth and Jatharr were next to each other just below him. He could hear their whispered conversation. Loraleth attempted to teach Jatharr their code language. He wondered how easily the Barbarian-born captain would pick it up. Mari and Timbrel wove a quiet lullaby that put Sawain’s nerves at ease. Banthan was already asleep and Naralei, who was on the other side of the tree, was silent.