by Elisa Menz
“I know!” she grunted. “I need to be certain. As soon as we reach Dröm, I must free him. If I don’t do this fast, he might hurt someone, and he’s not one to leave mild scratches.”
“That is why I’ll be coming along to patch up any ouchies from you lot.” Finn squeezed her cheeks. “Now concentrate, take deep breaths, and think happy thoughts.”
Leave Finn to make her laugh in such a dire situation.
He was right, she should be positive and hopeful. Everyone would do their very best. And she needed to calm herself. “Finn, is the dwarf a—?”
“A Warlock? Yes. He was Ystävä’s master. Dwarves live long lives, but I don’t think there has been any dwarf as old as him.”
“What is his name?”
“He never said, and Ystävä told me not to ask,” he shrugged. “Another of those inexplicable mysteries of the Forest I’m forced to put aside.” Of all the things Finn hated the most, not being able to crack a mystery ranked high on his list.
After a couple more hours of training, breathing, and chatting, they parted ways. Maeve strolled around the village, searching for Hakken. His presence never failed to put her at ease, and she wanted to share some time with him since morning. Sunset lengthened the shadows while Maeve wandered to the training grounds.
Somehow, she ended up going the wrong way over and over again. I need to sleep. Maeve pinched her nose, shaking her head to rid of her clumsiness. Drained, she decided to wait for him at their cave, but once again, she took a wrong turn.
“What?” She frowned at the ground, confused.
And there it lay—a barely visible trail meandering into the line of trees. Maeve gave the ground a skeptical look before whispering. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I was wondering when we would meet.”
The Path remained perfectly still while its magic nudged her to move forward. Accepting the invitation, Maeve followed the trail.
She didn’t wander far. The noises of the village followed her when she reached the musical waters of the river. The Warlock dwarf rested by the shore, and Maeve realized the Path had led her to him.
“Come and sit with me, Maeve.” His raspy voice held a warm tone. Behind the puffs of smoke coming out of his pipe, a friendly face smiled at her. She took a seat next to the Warlock, tucking her coat under her legs. He rummaged his pocket and offered her a smaller pipe, which she refused with a smile. “Nasty habit, anyway.” The dwarf laughed between coughs and pointed to the ground. “So... you met an old friend of mine.”
“Do you mean the Path?”
“It has a perplexing sense of humor and terrible punchlines for such an old being.”
Maeve couldn’t tell if he was making fun of her, so she remained silent. The Warlock let out a sigh. “You might consider the Path to be a simple creature. A free-willed trail, a bit weird, nothing much. But if you take into account the extension of the Forest, thousands of miles in every direction, and realize the Path travels through it all, you can’t ignore the fact it has seen a great deal, learned a lot, and existed for as long as the first creatures roaming these lands.” Hard to grasp, though it made sense.
“Did the Ancients create it?” she asked.
“No. Ask Ancient Hua or Ancient Paki. None of them have the slightest idea of how the Path came to be.” He made a pause to knock his pipe on a rock, throwing the ashes to the ground and stomping on them. “Like many other things, it evolved from a sum of intentions and desires, taking shape from the needs of the land and its people. The Path grew and developed its own will, completely detached from the will of the gods.”
Maeve nodded, mesmerized. What a rare gift to listen to the words of such a knowledgeable man.
“The gods came from the stars, shaped the earth, and gave us life. They never held the desire to rule over any of us. We own this world now, Maeve, we shape and protect it. And the Path is the pinnacle of this need to command our own destinies.”
Maeve wrapped her arms around her knees, letting this new wisdom sink in. It still baffled her to think not too long ago; she lived in a castle. If Finn hadn’t entered the Forest, she might have lived a simple life with her family. Hakken, Regn, Mynte, and Flyg would have never been part of her world.
The dwarf smiled. “Thinking about the million possibilities, ah?”
“Don’t we all?”
“True, but unlike most people, I can behold them all. Every possible outcome, all the time. The blessing I was born with, and not so rarely, also a curse. What could have been?” The dwarf closed his eyes, reminiscing. “There are so many results, Maeve, but what set us on this course is every little decision we had made.”
He stared at her, benevolent and solemn. “Your brother entered the Forest. Your mother gave up. Your father made a painful choice. You helped Hakken. He spared your life.” Maeve gaped at him, but the dwarf didn’t stop. “The goddess Paki trusted you, Dinnah aided you, Regn loved you.”
“How do you—?”
“Does it matter? I hold no power over the things I envision. But you all do. You, little Maeve, chose to fight tomorrow despite your fear. Hakken chose to trust you and let go of you, despite his fear.”
Maeve let her head rest on her arms, deep in thought. Was this meant to be? Was she supposed to end up in the Forest and help to save these people? Did she have the strength?
The dwarf gave her a friendly pat on the back. “Trust the Path in the forest, child. It has brought you here, where you must be.”
Dröm
They traveled nonstop for weeks, attacking villages, killing, and forcefully recruiting. The dust had set a pace, but something changed.
It all started when the villages they reached were empty. The horde always attacked by surprise, to either defenseless people or poorly prepared warriors. But apparently, everyone learned about their coming beforehand. It was a relief. Dröm and his people didn’t kill anyone for days. But inside his head, the child grew restless, and the turmoil in her mind reached his. Her strategy changed.
They have been slowly but steadily marching towards the village of the river tribe. History repeats itself. He frowned at the bitter thought. The same place where his father passed would become his final resting spot.
Soon it became apparent the faceless child was eager to reach them. Connected as they were, Dröm sensed her need to find something. Someone. She forced them to march at full speed for an entire day. They caught unsuspecting sentinels along the way, mercilessly killing them. The child never allowed mercy.
Most half-breeds would collapse at the excessive effort, but the dust gave them unnatural resilience. Despite their borrowed strength, by nightfall he dropped to the ground, exhausted. The dust let them rest for a few hours once they reached an open field.
This place would serve as a battlefield, and the dawn would bring the end to this madness. For bad or worse, his fate marched into an inevitable conclusion, and Dröm yearned for his release. That night his body rested, but sleep eluded him. The sunrise found him staring at the horizon until his acute senses made him realize they were no longer alone.
They are here. Dröm rose to his feet, not needing the push of the dust. He wanted to see them.
His people and everyone else taken by the dust, camped on a small valley, over a soft hill surrounded by a clear meadow. How peaceful. Bitter, Dröm thought this was a befitting last detail.
The first thing he caught was their scent. Hundreds of footsteps followed. Little by little, from the surrounding trees, a crowd appeared. Considering their numbers, the tribes had joined against them. And they had mounted elves by their side.
The child’s consciousness remained calm, unalterable. Dröm sensed her searching for the crowd. Through his eyes, she roamed the army without flinching. It’s not you who is going to die here today. Dröm’s thoughts received no answer from the child.
When his eyes glided over an unusual pair, she cowered, loosening her hold for a moment. Dröm took the opportunity to study them. An imposing man, with
the body of a stag and ominous eyes. And a beautiful, poised woman of silver skin and rich brown hair. They both radiated a commanding aura.
Once again a puppet for the child’s will, she forced him to study his enemies. No. Not his. Those could be his brothers.
He marveled at the sight, an army of unified tribes, facing an unjust threat. Oh, how he wished he could join them! How he longed to be worthy of standing by their side. Dröm fought the tears filling his eyes. It was but a dream, and he would die here today. Thank you, my brothers, for my freedom.
The time had come. The dust forced his arm up to order his people to move forward, but he stopped the movement. Dröm’s eyes opened in amazement, and in his mind, he sensed the child’s concern when he resisted her will. No magic in the world would surpass his surprise and joy. Standing among the army, alive and free, a beautiful face smiled at him.
“Flyg...”
CHAPTER XXXXIII
HERE WE ARE
Hakken
There were so many of them.
Sure, the allied tribes and the elves amount to at least twice as much, but they needed to take into account the mountain half-breeds outstanding strength. And they fought without fear of death because of the will of goddess Pouri.
But they didn’t come here to kill them.
Attack your adversary while being careful not to get hurt and not cause them any deadly harm. What a tactical nightmare! At least they gained the higher ground. In the end, Hakken refused to command the army. Under no circumstances would he leave Maeve to join the battlefield without him close by her side. Hevonen and Tyst would lead their forces.
A rush of excitement and fear pumped through his veins, and Hakken closed his eyes, breathing deeply. His head hanging loose, he went through their plan one more time. Hakken would lead their group. They should move fast and protect Maeve at all costs. Kniv would carry her on his back, with Finn close behind. Flyg and Regn would guard their flanks.
The first wave would use the sleeping froggy bombs. Gods, that’s a stupid name. It was imperative to lessen their numbers before clearing a path for them to reach Dröm. Before launching their vanguard, they had to wait and see how they would react. It was unwise to use the same old strategies when a single entity controlled the army they faced.
His assessment was interrupted when a little hand took his. Maeve stood by his side; a watchful frown fixed on the people in front of them. Through her touch, he realized she was trembling. Hakken’s first impulse was to take her in his arms, but he had to remain focused. Instead, he gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.
Maeve smiled for him. “I’m all right,” she said.
He knew. She was probably terrified, but his brave mate was determined to save them all. And he would be by her side to make sure she succeeded.
“We should let them know we are here to help!” Flyg, on the other hand, was on edge. “What if they believe we want to kill them?”
“Calm down, Flyg, I need you cool-headed if we are going to do this.”
He understood her distress, but if any of them allowed emotions to lead their movements, they were bound to fail. They needed to be quick, protect each other and Maeve. Flyg was right, though, and letting the horde know they were trying to save them might give them a little advantage. Anything helped.
Hakken let go of Maeve’s hand and took a few steps forward, filling his lungs. He stared down at the motionless crowd in the meadow. “My name is Hakken.” The sun came out behind him, painting with gold the top of the trees. The mellow wind allowed his voice to reach far, while no other sound echoed in the valley. “I did not come here to kill.”
The stillness was bloodcurdling. If they heard him, he couldn’t tell. But as Flyg said, they needed to know the tribes united to help them.
“Look at the faces of those standing in front of you. Each of us has come to save you.” What words would give them hope? “Once this is over, you will take your place among the half-breed tribes, as has always been your right. Fight to be free, my brothers!”
He couldn’t tell them about their plan or Maeve. If Pouri found out about her importance, she would become a target. Hakken only wished his words to reach them and made a difference. They needed to hold on to hope. He turned to rejoin his group, worry already weighing in the pit of his stomach.
But he found himself facing a tearful Maeve, a sobbing Flyg, a beaming Kniv, and a quite emotional Regn. He blinked at the spectacle. “Could you please not do this now?”
“Vanguard, with me!” Hevonen’s voice boomed in the field, startling them. Hakken quickly took his place, making sure everyone in his group stood ready. After a silent inspection, he turned his attention to the horde. They advanced in complete silence.
A silent battlefield was even more harrowing than a roaring one. The screams made the blood boil and prepared the body to attack or defend. The only thing Hakken wanted to do right then was fleeing. Take Maeve in his arms and run as far as possible. But for how long?
As the first wave of warriors moved to activate the sleeping potion, Hakken signaled the others to chew the sunshine seeds; as soon as the bitter tang flooded his mouth, a sudden rush of energy coursed through his body. This will help—a little extra strength.
They witnessed in tense silence how the warriors charged against the horde, running and spreading to cover more ground. Their coordination was impeccable, and soon, two or three warriors surrounded each horde fighter from the first line of attack, while an elven rider waited to catch them.
“Good!” Kniv clenched his fists, excited.
The sound of clashing bodies reached them. The warriors gripped wooden clubs to help dodge the horde’s attacks and, at the same time, avoid landing deadly injuries. The grunts barely eclipsed Hevonen’s shouts, and his instructions reached everyone. “Don’t break formation! Use the bombs within range!”
Hakken’s breath quickened as the adrenaline kicked in. It was up to them to end this swiftly. Maeve gasped when a few warriors were hurriedly carried away from the battle. Damn it! He cursed.
But as soon as he realized what happened, Hakken shook his head, relieved. They weren’t hurt, just asleep. Chewed the seeds too late or not at all. The warriors took the fallen sleepers into an improvised camp the healers built, guarded by the goddess Paki. She surrounded them with a tall roots fence, able to resist for a while in case of attack. Most of her strength she saved for healing the wounded.
Hua also guarded the camp, brandishing a long, sturdy wooden staff. The Ancients had been clear their involvement should be minimum to avoid driving Pouri away. He vowed to protect the refugees if the battle went awry.
“No, no! Help, please!” The terrifying screams froze his blood. To achieve victory without losses was surreal, but this came sooner than expected. Hakken stared in horror as a woman held a hand to her chest, covering an oozing wound. Right beside her, the mountain warrior pulled out his blade, expressionless, while tears fell from his eyes. Soon, more cries for help reached them, and those behind him grew restless. He pushed Regn back when the boy tried to go to the aid of a young warrior, facing two fighters on his own. “Don’t you dare! We have our mission!”
“With me!” Hevonen marched through the field, reorganizing the fighters. The sleeping bombs had been spent, and they worked perfectly, as most of the horde’s first wave laid on the ground, securely tied and harmless. But the few who resisted caused a great deal of damage.
“Hevonen! Watch out!” Tyst sounded the alarm from her flank. The horde’s second wave moved on them.
Hakken knew the time had come. “Kniv, take Maeve! Flyg, Regn, with me! Do not break formation, do you hear me? You stay by her side!” He turned to Finn. “Are you sure you can do this?”
“A little late to be asking, isn’t it?” The boy looked terrified, but he clenched his jaw before taking his place.
Maeve was ready, holding tight to Kniv’s back. Her golden hair, braided behind her back, gleamed under the rising sun. Her unflin
ching stare set on Dröm. Noticing his attention, she turned to him and smiled, causing his heart to skip a beat. “You can do this.” Hakken took her hand, steeling his resolve. He would keep her safe. They would both leave this field unharmed.
Dröm had yet to move in the distance, standing on the hill with three of his warriors, watching the battle unfold around him. It was now or never. Hakken called for the elf. “Hevonen!”
They needed a path, and he would provide it.
The closest mounted elves rallied behind his commander, moving through the field to take position between them and Dröm. Within seconds, they were ready, pushing back the horde.
Hakken’s body throbbed with the urge to roar and charge, but he let out a long breath instead and paused for an instant before shouting one word. “Move!” They rushed forward.
The first stretch was easy since their warriors holding the second wave protected them. Hakken tried his best to ignore the gruesome fights around them. The best way to help them is to reach Dröm fast! They slipped through their ranks with ease.
As soon as they reached the riders, the battle grew frantic. The battle-trained horses worked in harmony with their riders, but the strength of the mountain half-breeds turned out to be a substantial advantage.
Leading the group, Hakken risked injury far too many times before an elf diverted his attacker. Despite the discouraging distance, they stayed together and moved steadily. “Come on, we are getting closer! Don’t lose focus!”
“Ahh!” His head snapped to his right, where Flyg flanked. The girl gripped her arm with one hand, blood pouring from a deep cut. Next to her, two elves drove back a frenzied mountain warrior.
“Allow me!” Finn moved into action. They stood their ground for a moment, their back turned to each other, watching in growing tension how the surrounding battle didn’t abate. The elves pushed back the attacks with remarkable effort, and a few half-breed warriors reached them to defend their group. Hakken looked for Dröm, relieved to see him closer than expected.