‘Very good. She’s built up enough momentum to counter the Warden’s speed, and the reptile can’t bite her from the front without impaling itself on Selsena’s horn’.
Ahren wasn’t sure if Falk was trying to reassure his companions or himself, but he was thankful for his words because they gave him comfort and courage. Selsena turned again and prepared for another charge. The snake now extended itself to its maximum height and waited for her. The monster looked like an enormous swaying green tower eight paces high. Then it darted downwards towards the fragile looking unicorn. Once again there were scales flying everywhere, and once again Selsena shot out behind the massive body. Ahren could see the cuts his friend had scored on the scaly body with his naked eye. The longer of her two horns was dripping with blood and her whole bone-plate was a soaking red.
‘How long can she keep up that speed?’ asked Ahren quietly.
Falk looked at him with wild eyes. ‘She’ll manage it alright. The old girl can attack like that for four hours in a row without tiring’. He couldn’t fail to hear the confidence in his master’s voice and he began to relax just a little. The unicorn must have found a reliable method of defeating her enemy and now it was only a matter of persevering.
The snake, however, seemed to come to the same conclusion. Just as Selsena was about to launch another attack, it wound its way low between the trees and disappeared from the spectators’ view.
‘Damn it, where is it? A big animal like that can’t just disappear into thin air’, called out Uldini nervously.
Jelninolan hissed at him to quieten down and responded, ‘we’re standing here at the very edge of its territory and the Warden is wounded and testy. Perhaps we should try not to attract any unnecessary attention to ourselves’.
Falk instead answered the Arch Wizard’s question. ‘The animal has lived here for eons. It knows every tree, every bush, every leaf. Every natural pothole is a potential ambush and with these massive trees, every hollow tree trunk is a hiding place. Its scales are the same as the moss that grows here and if we’re unlucky, it will have dug a few tunnels that we can’t see from here. It knows now it has to catch Selsena by the side or from behind. Or from below. She has to get out of there as quickly as possible’.
Falk had automatically fallen into the dry tone he used whenever he was analysing the behavioural habits of a wild animal or a Dark One. The experienced Forest Guardian was speaking now, not the terrified companion. Ahren frantically asked himself how he or the others could help as he watched on helplessly and saw Selsena slowly and carefully approaching the tree trunk and the lute. There was no sign of the Warden and finally Selsena pushed her horn under the leather strap. She raised her head, the strap tautened, and she began to slowly raise the lute off the short branch from which the strap had been hanging. She was stretching just a little further forward awkwardly when suddenly Falk whispered quickly, ‘there it is. It was waiting for this’. Then he gave a panic-stricken shout. ‘Get rid of it! Get rid of it and run as fast as you can!’
The unicorn reacted immediately and lowered her head so that the instrument slid back into place.
At the same time the ground around the Titejunanwa exploded and the snake broke out from a shallow tunnel. Its head missed Selsena’s neck by a hand’s width but Ahren could hear the heavy thud as the massive head slammed into her left shoulder. Selsena neighed shrilly as the Warden tried to wrap itself around her.
Ahren looked on in horror at the terrible scene playing out in front of him. If Selsena couldn’t get away from there immediately, she would be squeezed into a bloody pulp by the heavy body with its multiple tendons and muscles.
The unicorn leapt from a standing start over the snake’s coils before it had a chance to tighten its deadly noose, but her hind legs crashed into the monster and hung there for a moment. Selsena gave a whinny of pain and flung herself around. She dashed away but it was clear she was limping badly. The snake immediately gave chase and it was obvious to all that the unicorn had lost her speed advantage. The Warden would catch her sooner rather than later.
The Elven-horse tried repeatedly to leave the valley but the Warden cut her off every time and the slope slowed the limping unicorn considerably.
Ahren looked pleadingly at the others but all he could see was pure frustration in their faces. His thoughts were racing as he dug his hands into Culhen’s fur, so his friend could support him at this terrible moment. Then the young man froze.
‘Jelninolan, only an animal blessed by the goddess can go down there?’
She looked at him sadly. ‘That’s right, we can’t help her’.
Now he was really excited. Selsena didn’t have much time, but he needed the right answers to know if his plan could be successful.
‘And you’re a high priestess of the goddess and you spoke Her blessing over Culhen on the first day so that the other elves would accept him, am I right?’
‘Yes, of course, but he isn’t big enough to last more than a few seconds against the snake’, interjected Falk, his voice filled with frustration.
Ahren clapped his hands. ‘But he doesn’t have to!’
He whispered something to his friend and slapped him on the back. Like a white thunderbolt the wolf shot straight into the valley with Ahren urging him on frantically.
Falk stared at him flabbergasted. ‘What in the name of all Three are you doing there? You can’t sacrifice him?’
Ahren didn’t look away from his friend, even though, out of the corner of his eye he could see that the duel between snake and unicorn was coming towards a sad ending. Everything depended on his plan now. And on Culhen.
After a few seconds it became clear to the others that the wolf wasn’t racing for the snake, but for the place where the lute was still hanging.
Ahren pulled himself back into the Void, took his bow from his shoulder and placed the arrow in position. He ignored the surprised protests of his companion and concentrated completely on the narrow strip of leather, that he could sense rather than see. The young Forest Guardian had only one chance and the timing had to be perfect. Culhen would need as much time as possible. Just as the wolf arrived under the tree and was preparing to jump at full speed, Ahren let the arrow fly and watched its path with bated breath. The wolf leaped up, turning his body in the air so that he could run back as soon as he landed.
If the arrow missed its target, it would injure his friend and the Warden would certainly catch the shot animal. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion until the missile slammed into the trunk above Culhen. The leather strap broke with an audible snap and the artefact fell towards the ground, right between the open fangs of the leaping wolf. He snapped the throat of the instrument between his teeth, landed on the ground and began racing back to the edge of the valley, with the lute sticking out of his mouth like a grotesque version of a hunter’s quarry.
‘I don’t believe it’, groaned Falk.
Uldini and Jelninolan joined in with Ahren’s encouraging cries.
The Warden’s reaction was lightning quick and focused. It immediately abandoned Selsena and raced, sliding along the forest floor, towards Culhen.
The monster was indeed faster than the wolf with the cumbersome lute in his mouth, but on account of his manoeuvre under the tree, the wolf was already on the home stretch. The advantage that the young wolf had was enormous and he raced as quickly as he could towards his fellow travellers, who spurred him on with their cries.
Selsena in the meantime had retreated to the safety of the elf forest and limped out of sight among the trees. Culhen was now twenty paces away, with the snake another twenty paces further back. Ahren stood at the edge of the valley and pulled Jelninolan beside him. The distance between apprentice, wolf and snake was vanishing and Ahren prayed to all the gods, all the while calling to Culhen and beckoning him. He stretched his arms out to the wolf and when the animal was almost on top of them, he ripped the instrument out of his mouth and rammed it into the elf priestess’s
waiting arms. Culhen shot by him, the snake in hot pursuit.
Purposefully.
On its mission.
The young man threw himself between the snake and the wolf, stretched one arm out towards the Warden and pointed with the other one to the lute in Jelninolan’s arms.
‘STOP!’ he roared at the top of his voice while the massive, scaly body swayed over him, filling up Ahren’s entire field of vision. The head swung back, the body was coiled and ready to spring, a couple of hand width’s from the valley’s edge.
‘STOP!’, roared Ahren again. ‘Your task is finished. The lute has left the valley and is now in elf hands!’
The snake hissed at him threateningly and soared like a wave of scales over him, ready to squeeze him into a pulp within a heartbeat. Then its silvery eyes slid slowly over towards the lute and then down to the valley’s edge that lay between them. Then the Warden was stock still for three heartbeat, before it turned and slid slowly back down into the valley, as if the events of the previous few minutes had never happened.
Ahren turned in a daze towards the others and said, ‘it wasn’t a Dark One. It’s nice when your opponent sticks to the rules for a change’.
Then he sank to his knees, threw his arms around the wolf and buried his face in Culhen’s fur as tears of relief streamed down his face.
There was silence for a while, broken only by Ahren’s sobs until finally he heard Uldini asking in a dry tone, ‘is the boy alright?’
‘It will all be fine’, he heard his master saying with amusement. ‘The last time he fainted. This is a considerable improvement’.
Ahren couldn’t help chuckling when he heard that, and he lifted his tear-stained face up from his friend’s fur, the friend he had almost sent to his death. Culhen licked his face and wagged his tail. Ahren had to chuckle again, then pulled himself up and turned to the others.
Falk looked both proud and serious, before giving him an appreciative nod. Uldini smiled his typical half-smile. Jelninolan was completely wrapped up in her examination of the lute, which she held in her arms like a baby.
Ahren still didn’t trust his voice, so he cleared his throat before asking, ‘Selsena?’
Falk smiled briefly, and he answered, ‘a few bruises and aching bones. Nothing that won’t heal quickly, especially with her herd taking care of her. She’ll be right as rain in a couple of days’.
Ahren breathed a sigh of relief and stroked Culhen’s head again. Somehow, he just wasn’t able to let go of the wolf.
Once it was the clear that the young Forest Guardian was in control of his emotions again, Uldini asked, ‘how did you know that it would break off its attack?’
Ahren shrugged his shoulders and answered. ‘I figured it out. Culhen has been blessed, so he was allowed to enter the valley. He didn’t attack the Warden so there wasn’t any ritual duel between the two of them, which would have allowed the snake to continue its attack outside the valley. Its job was to keep the artefact from falling into unworthy hands. I was counting on Jelninolan being considered worthy, so the task was to get the lute over here quickly and within the restrictions that had been laid down. I never expected the Warden to leave Selsena alone immediately, I hadn’t expected it, only hoped it would break off from the fighting once the lute was out of the valley’.
Ahren began shaking again and dug his hands into Culhen’s fur. ‘The rest was luck’, he whispered.
Falk scratched his beard and looked thoughtfully at Ahren. ‘A damn big risk you took there – but I’m glad you took it. Although you bent every single rule to its limit. Hopefully the other elves will see the matter the same way as the Warden’.
Uldini added drily, ‘we’ll find out soon enough’.
Three slim figures in leather armour approached them with their bows cocked and stared grimly at the lute in the priestess’s hands.
Jelninolan whispered quietly to her companions, ‘We’ll offer no resistance. Everything can be interpreted in our favour up to this point but if we attack the valley’s Honour Guards, we lose all legitimacy’. Then she stepped forward and gave a little bow, before trying to reason with the three elf warriors with authority in her voice.
They listened with stern looks and answered briefly, but their bows remained cocked and aimed at the group.
The whole conversation was in Elfish and so Ahren didn’t understand a word. He leaned over to Uldini and asked him quietly, ‘I thought Jelninolan was the high priestess of the goddess. Why are they threatening her?’
Uldini kept his eyes on the four talking figures. ‘They don’t value titles the way humans do. They would never think of giving someone an advantage on account of their position, especially not if they think a wrong has been done. I would even say that they are stricter with dignitaries. Elves are emotional creatures and community is sacred to them. If someone in a vital position damages this cohesion, it has far-reaching effects on their society’.
Nerve-wracking moments passed as the elves continued their discussion. The three finally lowered their bows and divided themselves up among the travellers. Jelninolan turned to the others and explained the situation in a sad voice. ‘They will accompany us back. According to them, the Voice of the Forest must decide whether we are in the right or not. I’m sorry, but we can’t travel for now’.
Falk frowned and Uldini let out a quiet curse.
‘What does that mean?’ asked Ahren.
‘It means’, said Falk between gritted teeth, ‘that we have to sit here until a white stag gallops into town and decides whether we should live or die’.
The little group spent the rest of the day trotting back to the elf settlement. It was no surprise that the mood was grim. Nobody talked. Ahren tried to ask one or two more questions but he was fobbed off with one syllable answers. On one occasion he tried to get Culhen to slip away into the undergrowth so that at least his friend would be safe, but one of their elf guards immediately pointed an arrow at the wolf. It seemed Culhen’s role in the recovery of the artefact was too crucial to simply let him escape.
Ahren shook his head in frustration. On the one hand, the elves were exactly as he had expected, openhearted and hospitable, with warm dispositions and full of magical skills. On the other hand, he found the passion with which they rigidly adhered to every little rule unsettling. When he thought of the way they had banished his master for centuries, he even considered these creatures to be cold and alien.
He found these contradictory impressions hard to grasp and he finally concluded with a sigh that he was trying to apply human qualities to a non-human folk. If he was ever to evaluate the reactions of these emotional forest dwellers, he would have to be far more open towards their otherness. If it ever came to it. He couldn’t really imagine that the Voice of the Forest would condemn them to death, but it was bad enough that the elves were withholding the artefact from them and so they couldn’t complete the ritual in which he would be named Paladin. Mind you, he was basing this assumption on purely human empirical values and so his thoughts went round and round in circles until they finally set up camp for the night.
Everyone was chewing on the dried fruit the guards had handed out to them, and Ahren stared out into the forest, lost in thought. Darkness fell and the sparse snippets of conversation slowly petered out. Ahren was about to snuggle down under his blanket when he noticed a change in the lighting conditions. Something luminous was approaching them through the trees. He looked uneasily across at the others, but they were just exchanging curious looks.
‘A Rillan?’ asked Uldini and the elf priestess nodded.
‘It seems to be for me’, she said.
Ahren saw a luminous blue-white sphere flying directly towards Jelninolan. It didn’t seem to bother anyone, not even the guards, so Ahren relaxed and looked with curiosity to see what would happen.
The elf raised her hand until her palm touched the outside of the sphere at which point it dispersed leaving an iridescent pattern in the air. Ahren saw that all eyes
were trained on the sign and it was being studied very carefully. It was clear to Ahren that it had to be some kind of elf hieroglyphics. It was a magic message!
Then the elf dropped her arm sadly and the message was gone.
‘The Voice of the Forest was found by a hunter from the village. It seems it passed on in the cycle of life some weeks ago’.
It was clear to Ahren that these words were meant for him because everyone else had been able to read the message, but he didn’t understand what it meant. His confusion must have been obvious because Falk cleared his throat and said, ‘the Voice of the Forest is selected by the goddess in a seemingly arbitrary manner. Mostly it’s an animal, sometimes an elf or even a tree. No matter who or what has been selected, the life expectancy or the living conditions of the relevant being remains as before. A tree can wither and die, an elf may cease to be, or, as in this case, a stag can be killed by a beast of prey. The Voice then passes over to another carrier. The problem is finding this carrier’. His master ruffled his hair. ‘That will just delay things further’.
Ahren nodded silently. The more he found out, the clearer the picture of this strange culture became. If the goddess didn’t even grant her mouthpiece a special place in the cycle of nature, why should the elves do it for their high priestess?
‘I can send out a Call when we get back to the community, but our chances are slim. A young Voice reacts far less often to the Call than one who is aware of its role’, said Jelninolan.
Uldini shook his head. ‘the gods are being particularly uncooperative, deep sleep aside, when you consider that we’re trying to protect the world from a new onslaught by the Adversary’.
He lay down in frustration and grumpily covered himself with his blanket before staring out into the darkness. Everyone followed suit and finally the exertions of the day took their toll, and all fell asleep.
Ahren had a restless night. Time and again he would wake up, bathed in sweat, his arms and legs contorted and entangled in his blanket. Rather than giving him energy, the short periods of sleep drained him. He finally gave up just before dawn and got up. He took his Windblade, pointed demonstratively at it so that one of the guards would look over, then went a few steps to the side to show that he wasn’t presenting a danger, and began his sword practice. His joints and muscles were sore and he realized immediately that he had been neglecting his training. He saw his weapon in a different light ever since he had killed the bandits with his sword and he found it very difficult to practise techniques that were capable of killing other living beings. He breathed in deeply and sucked the aromatic night air into his lungs, concentrated on the gentle sounds of the sleeping forest and admired the beauty of the faint moonlight shining through the leaves. Then he began again and concentrated on the simple movements the armourer had hammered into him in such a short time. In the end he was just as soaked through as he had been after his restless sleep, but this time it was because of his efforts. The feeling of being able to do anything at all was better than the helplessness that had held him in its grip the whole night through. His companions were still sleeping, and just as restlessly as he had.
Ahren- the 13th Paladin Page 33