Glanderxe - Chapter 10

The fire was no longer lit and I was no longer asleep. I woke startled and uncomfortable to find the Thief crouched in front of me with one hand over my mouth and another to her lips signifying that I should remain silent. I felt like lashing out at her for the rude awakening she had caused me but a rustling in the distance replaced my feelings with reality. She saw my eyes soften and removed her hand from my mouth, trusting that I would not cry out. Rising slowly from my resting place, I followed Kyra as silently as my feet would allow. She was by far more skilled in the art of stealth than I, but her leading gave me an advantage that I would not have had on my own. Placing my feet where hers had been, minimally disturbing the forest floor, we took to the shadows behind a near-by tree.

There were two of them. Though they carried no torch, light from the full-moon outlined their shadowy figures. As they drew closer I could here that they were talking but not what they said. Fear rose from my stomach to my throat as they closed in on our position. I looked at the Tallri for direction, but she seemed not afraid, remaining perfectly still and silent behind the tree. With my rising fear came curiosity fed by their now discernible conversation.

“Lord Klychawk will be displeased.” The one who spoke stood slightly taller than the other, his speech sounding rusty and foreign.

“Piss on Klychawk Zyngoth, and piss on his displeasure.” The shorter man spat out the words like bitter herbs. “It has been too long since I’ve felt the blood in my veins surging to match the mess on my face from a fallen enemy! You know as good as I that the north is growing restless.”

“I do, but leave that to the politicians, not the warriors. Once steel is drawn there will be no sheathing it.”

“Piss on politics! I will draw steel and have no desire to sheath it until all those who defy my blade are left swimming in their own blood!” The short man drew his sword in a seeming rage and gave a number of heart-felt slashes to his invisible assailant before stopping his ravings, holding steel and breathing heavily.

“Put that thing away you blasted fool!” The larger man commanded his voice rising over the other man with authority. “Your wasted efforts do nothing but wake the woods.”

“They wake the man inside me who has lain dormant for far too long. You hear that Klychawk!” The man screamed in his fit of rage. “My lady is out and she longs for blood! Give me something to stick her in or she will find home in your chest!” The smaller man whirled around in a rage unable to control his blood lust, searching for something to kill.

A purple glow rose from between the taller man’s hands as he brought them together. It swirled and sparked as it grew like a ball of violet lighting waiting to strike its mark. “You will put away your sword or the only blood you will see this day will be your own!” The man barked, attempting to subdue the lust rising in his companion.

“YOUR BLOOD WILL SUFFICE!” The shorter man turned to face the other and held his large sword out, defying the man’s words. The forest lit up as lighting flashed from between the taller man’s hands, piercing the air as it rushed forward. The purple shaft met with the shorter man’s sword, sending an electric shock through the metal and deep into his bones. He dropped his sword and fell on the ground trembling and immobile from the shock he had received.

The taller man stepped forward, hands still glowing faintly as he approached the other who now lay alive yet incapacitated on the forest floor. “You forget your place, allmharach.” He spat at the man before lifting him off the ground. “I should leave you to fend against the death in these lands like your ancestors, but I like you too much for that.” An evil smile spread across his face as he continued. “I had hoped to get my fill of that perkoh from Glanderxe and his Tallri friend but...” his cruel smile widened as he opened his mouth to reveal two large fangs “your blood will suffice!” The words shot from his mouth like tiny knives before he plunged his face into the man’s neck.

The meat of the spirit deer I had eaten rose to my throat and I almost regretting the large meal I had glutinously devoured. I could not take my eyes from the man as blood began to drip down his neck and gathered in a pool on the forest floor. I knew not how long the feeding lasted, though my terror made it seem like hours before the dead man fell from the fangs of the other. “You have abandoned the gods of your ancestors. They cannot save you from this death. Serve me in death as you did in life.” He raised his hands once again and they glowed with that now familiar purple hue. He held them over the man on the ground and I watched as blood dripped from his palms onto the dead man’s body. The blood did not reach his body but formed an unnatural cocoon around him.

Once the dead man was entirely encased in blood the other man lowered his hands. I watched as the blood slowly dripped down the encasing like water on a pane of glass. Soon his form was once again revealed... but it was not as before. It glowed with that same purple hue as the spirit deer did before its death. The spirit of the dead man rose from the ground, leaving no body behind. The taller man turned and bade the other to follow. They continued through the trees the way they had been going as if nothing had changed. Soon the shorter man disappeared as I had seen the spirit deer appear, like passing from one plane to the next. The woods fell silent once again and I was caught somewhere between relief and horror as we revealed ourselves from hiding. I followed the Tallri back to the camp and sat in my place by the now lifeless fire. I once had found comfort here, in the warmth of the fire and the beauty of the trees, but after what I had seen, that comfort would not return.

***

My mind was swimming, lost in this fantasy world which I found myself. How did I get into this? I was stuck halfway between fear and bewilderment. So many questions swirled around my head as I looked over at the Tallri. She seemed equally disturbed as I, not that I would expect any different after what we had just encountered.

She saw me looking at her and she turned away. Was that shame I saw in her eyes? “We must leave this place at once.” She said without looking at me.

What was she ashamed? “Not until you tell me what is going on.” She was hiding something. I didn’t know what, but she had been far too quiet lately and too much was left unanswered.

“Did you not hear the man? He is hunting us. The more distance we put between us and him the better, and we best be quick about it.” Grabbing her makeshift pot she dumped water on the fire to kill any life that might remain in the logs.

“What are you talking about?” I rose to my feet and watched her while she made busy about the camp-site gathering what she could into a small pack she had fashioned from the deerskin.

“Who do you think that perkoh from Glanderxe and his Tallri friend are? I have seen no other Tallri in these parts and especially none travelling with a man from Glanderxe. You surely cannot be that dense, Mert!” I could see that she was beginning to lose control of her emotions. Something was deeply troubling her and I guessed it was more than the sight we had just been witnesses of.

“You may be Tallri and I from Glanderxe, but I am no perkoh. I am a man.” I knew not what other kinds of strange creatures roamed these northern lands and had never seen a perkoh before, but certainly I had no intention of meeting one based on the other inhabitants of this place.

The Thief stopped what she was doing and looked at me, her eyes burning with haste. “A perkoh is no strange creature. You clearly don’t know the words of the north. He was insulting you, showing his disgust of your juvenile nature, a feeling which I share.”

Usually when she chose to insult me it was in jest, but this was no game. My naivety disgusted her and she clearly had no desire to be slowed down by explaining any more than she had to. “I see that you are in a hurry to get out of here, and I have no intention of staying here any longer than necessary, but a simple explanation of what is going on would aid your cause immensely. I will not pick up and leave just because you say so! In case you have forgotten, you are my prisoner and I will have no more tricks or lies! Tell me what you know!” I felt heart begin to pump faster. Easy Mert. Don’t let this get out of control.

She threw the pack down that she had been collecting various supplies in and took a few heated steps toward me.  My hand reached for the pommel of my sword, more out of habit than fear of any actual danger. “You wish to waste more time through frivolous conversation! Fine! Those two men were servants of Klychawk Zyngoth, god of the north. He holds more power through his dark sorcery than you or I could match even with 10,000 knights backing us. I don’t know what you have done to get on his bad side, but I don’t aim on sticking around to find out!” She spat the words at me while wagging her finger in heated accusation.

“I have done nothing! I don’t even know this Klychawk character! You are the criminal among us! What have you done!”

“Me? My only enemies are those of Riul herself, but I know better than to pick a fight with the god of the north!” Her chest rose and fell with animated breathing and I decided that it would be best to attempt to calm her before things got out of control. I saw what she had done to the spirit deer and had no desire to draw steel against this woman.

“Let us calm down.” I attempted to speak as soothingly as possible, though my own emotions fought against such desires. “It matters not which of us he is after or for what reasons. You are right. We must be away from here, but it is clear that we must work together. It pains me to ask for your aid as it equally wounds your pride to associate with someone as naive as myself unless necessity requires it. Based on what you have told me, and the scene I have witnessed with my own eyes, I wish no more than you to tangle with this god of the north.” I paused expecting her to give some type of response, but she merely searched my eyes for their intention. “You know more about these lands than I do, that much is plain, but I have been trained in combat by Sir Kherine himself, captain of the royal guard of Glanderxe. I have also, according to you, been gifted with some strange power over nature through this Horn of Riul. Whether we aim to battle or run from the god of the north we must start to trust each other. That much is plain.” I didn’t know what had come over me. I wanted nothing more than to deliver Lady Calwen’s message to the Pharosh and be done with this Kyra and this foolish question, but our circumstances were making me re-think my plain intentions.

“A thief I may me, but you are a fool. This quest proves to be more than a thief and a fool can handle. There is only one in all of history with a greater hatred of Klychawk Zyngoth than the Tallri. They are the only ones who have ever been able to battle Klychawk on the open field and survive. It seems that for once our intentions align, Mert Whatley. We must seek out the Pharosh across the great River West.” She finished, handing me my coin purse she had been hiding since we met so long ago in Dete Plych.

***

A great rumbling could be heard from within the swirling mass of energy that stood at the centre of the garden. Beams of impenetrable darkness launched from its core, shrouding all in the absence of light. Tiyhak pressed on through the darkness, his spirit drawn by the presence, guided by the will of Klychawk. The gnarled trees stood tall around him, scraping his spirit as he progressed. It no longer felt strange to leave his body behind, knowing that it was just a holding-cell for his power. Life and death are held in the spirit, the body directed by their will. It was not life that called to him, but death. The master of death. The god of the north. Klychawk Zyngoth.

The purple glow of the skeleton trees made him feel strong. Important. Few were granted access to the spirit plane, and even fewer access to the garden. The darkness that protected it in the plane of life invited him in death, guiding his spirit through the inky cloud. As Tiyhak approached the pool of death he could feel the steam in his spirit, the heat invigorated his dead essence.

My Child. God spoke from within the pool, his words piercing the darkness, sending beams of electric fire toward Tiyhak the addressed.

Father. He always addressed him as such, though the word meant nothing to him. He had no father. Never had. Never would. Who could birth his spirit but death itself? Klychawk, the master of death was the closest thing he had to a father.

I feel the fire within you. What makes you burn so? The spirit placed his hand on Tiyhak’s heart.

I burn for the blood of your people cruelly taken from your hands. He didn’t know why he tried to lie to Klychawk. A spirit cannot lie, for truth is more plain in death than in life.

You burn. Burn. Burn. Klychawk began to weep. My son! Who has caused you this pain?

One word is all it took. That one word he dreaded to say, but the love of his father overwhelmed him. Allmharach. He could hold the spirit no longer. He could not lie to his father. A shroud cleared from around him, revealing not one spirit, but two.

The pool began to bubble and spit. Shafts of lighting blasted the darkness as the trees began to weep. My son. This pains me. He continued to cry as Tiyhak remained in silence, stunned by the response of his father. His rage still burned within, but father was not angered. He felt his spirit begin to soften as Klychawk’s tears fell. This is indeed a burden, but one that you must bear. There is no grace in death.

I know, father. What could he do? The Allmharach had attacked him in the plane of life. He deserved not to remain.

I sense your spirit is weakened, as it must me, for you no longer control one spirit, but two. May death guide you as you seek out its will. The pool began to settle for Klychawk had no more tears to cry. This is the way of the north.

Tiyhak’s anger was taken from him. He felt the sadness of Klychawk surround him in the darkness of the garden. It reached for him from the branches of the trees above, comforting his spirit. His spirit almost laughed from the joy the sorrow brought. He was a burden in life. As death enslaves his spirit to me, may he no longer be a worthless follower, but an asset.

Klychawk laughed from within the pool. A fine eulogy, my son. His useless life is forfeit. I see you did him a service. I pray now he does you one as well, for he could be a burden in death as he was in life. Your first slave always drains you the most.

My spirit is strong, father. I am ready for this burden. Klychawk always made his feel confident. His love for his son overwhelmed his spirit.

Go now. Rest. The journey ahead will be long, and you must regain your strength, my son. Train this spirit well and he will bless you in death as he didn’t in life.

Glanderxe - Chapter 9

     As we approached the trees something strange occurred that I would not have expected. Based on the surroundings that I had been in the past couple of weeks, though not comfortable, the snow had become customary. Would anyone expect any different this far north of Glanderxe? As if battling expectations the snow melted before my eyes causing a great field of mud. I would have complained, but was past the point of caring. I just wanted to get to the forest. The prospect of meat toyed with my stomach and mind, giving me the will to go on.

Soon the water began to dry, but by the time we reached the lush fields that lined the forest I was plastered to the waste with mud. Looking behind me, I could see the fields of white in the distance. Not only had the snow melted, but I also noticed a change in the air temperature. I was hot! In the middle of this frozen wasteland, it seemed that we had found an oasis of life and beauty. The purple flowers which previously dotted the snow now created a sweet blanket beneath our feet.

The landscape stretching before my eyes brought me back to the days when Miranda and I would go running in the fields on the outskirts of Coere Ghante. During spring, what time we didn’t spend working the fields was spent at play. We would run with the wind, hands and feet naked like a newborn, playing at adventure like two mighty hunters, or warriors, or any other manner of hero our juvenile minds could conjure up. Mother’s stories tickled our childish minds and we re-enacted those tales or discovered adventure of our own. I remember, in the evenings we used to lay in the grass and watch the sun make its slow trek behind the trees, exploding in glorious oranges and reds as it drew closer to its destination. Such memories almost made me want to remove my shoes and enjoy the feel of the soft greenery between my toes... but I was no fool. If Kyra saw me acting so, I would never hear the end of it. She already had enough reason to point out my naivety and youth. Why should I seek to add to her repertoire.

Soon we were among the trees, and it felt like summer again. The warm moist breeze flowed through the hair of the Tallri causing it to ripple like a lake seen by night. Her dark tresses fell to her shoulders, and for the first time, I saw the beauty she had been hiding. Perhaps it was the harsh weather or her harsh attitude that had previously blinded my eyes to her beauty. No one could match the beauty of my love, Farah, but Kyra was a pleasant sight and seemed at home in the mighty forest.

She turned to look at me, I presumed to give instruction on the hunt, and I felt heat rise to my face. Hoping that my embarrassment was not noticeable by the Tallri, I stood there like a dumb schoolboy, waiting for her to speak. She, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice, or if she had, did not comment on my juvenile musings. “We must be silent and cunning if we are to catch anything today.”

“What is it that we are hunting?” I said, still trying to clear my head of the embarrassment I had caused myself.

“The locals call them spirit dear... Riul only knows why, because there is nothing more spiritual about them than the deer of the south.” She seemed disgusted by the thought that someone would distinguish one animal as “spiritual” and another as not. All beasts were created equal in the eyes of Riul.

I let a smile spread across my lips but dared not entertain speaking my thoughts. Perhaps the heat was getting to her, but I had not yet seen anything of these “locals” and had been travelling through the same wasteland as she. It may just be my juvenile nature, but I found great humour, conceptually, in “spirit deer”.  My mind went wild with images of glowing deer with wings, like a fairy/deer cross-breed. I tried not to laugh at the pictures in my mind’s eye. “And where shall we find these spirit deer.” I emphasized, keeping the humour to myself.

“They are with us now, we just have to catch them.” She stated simply, as if it was less of a hunt and more an act of encircling them in a net like a butterfly.

I decided to play along. Though I so desperately wished to mock her, this game would be a lot more fun if I kept my thoughts to myself. I followed her swiftly and silently, as she dodged behind one tree and then another. The way she moved, it truly seemed like she was stalking her prey, though I saw no evidence of the hunted. The game continued for quite some time until I was growing bored of the joke. I was almost ready to call her bluff when I saw that which we chased. The locals (whoever that might be) were correct in their assessment of the “spirit deer” which now materialized before my eyes. As if passing from one plane to the next, the stag became visible in all its wonder. Though I could see it now, its form remained like that of a spirit, glowing purple and translucent.

I followed Kyra’s lead as she darted once again to the next-nearest tree. The spirit deer approached a mighty expanse of water which now stretched before us, clear and beautiful. The Thief turned to me, indicating that I should stay put, as the deer lowered its head to take a drink from the water. She crept forward without making a sound, travelling with grace like one walking on clouds. She drew nearer to the animal than I thought someone who showed such knowledge of the hunt would dare before pulling a small knife from beneath her tunic. In one swift motion she lifted her arm above her head, and with a flick of the wrist, launched the blade toward the creature. As it found its mark, she leaped from the ground, mid-air pulling another knife from its concealed home beneath her clothing, and landed on the deer’s back just moments after the knife had found its place, raising it from it’s tranquillity.

If I were the hunter, I would have considered the first knife sufficient, but I saw that Kyra was my superior in more skills than thievery. The spirit tried to launch itself from beneath its assailant, but she remained atop holding the beast tightly between her thighs. It bucked and kicked and struggled to no avail as the Tallri grabbed the neck of the spirit deer in one hand, the other swinging from above her head and slicing its neck. Sweet red blood gushed from the wound as the deer fell on the ground, never to rise again. As the life force drained from its veins it travelled from the plane of the spirit to that of the living, yet was dead, the purple translucent skin being replaced with opaque brown fur.

Kyra pulled her first knife from the side of the beast and proceeded to clean it on the animal’s skin. I approached her from behind the tree which I had witnessed the scene... but said nothing. I knew not what to saw, but could only stand in awe of the events that had unfolded. The hunt was truly a game; I was not a party, but a mere observer of Kyra the champion and the spirit deer the loser.

***

The meat was warm and tender. Never had I enjoyed the juices of animal flesh running down my face as much as I did that night. My stomach welcomed the meat, but my mind cherished it more. Though curiosity toyed with me about many things, I easily ignored its ravings being soothed by the comfort of warmth and good food.

Though we both were starving, there was more meat than we couple handle. I wanted to continue eating, but my stomach denied me the luxury as it nearly burst from within me like clouds holding back a storm. Kyra showed her survivalist instincts by saving enough of the excess for one more meal, the rest being prepared and dried to prevent it from spoiling.

I reclined heavily against a nearby tree, watching the flames from our fire lick the low hanging branches, the heat curling the leaves like a snail going into hiding. As sparks leaped from the pit, I was mesmerized by the low crackle of wood and flickering lights, barely noticing Kyra get up. “Where are going, Thief?” I asked half-heartedly my eyes not leaving the flames.

“The night is clear and the water calls to me. I seek to wash off the dirt of the journey and the hunt.”

“I won’t stop you, though the water might. The chill of the night is better suited for sleep than bathing.”

“The chill!” Her laughter brought my eyes from the flames as I searched her for the meaning behind the humour. “There will be no chill here, Mert. The Pharosh make sure of that.”

I had seen no Pharosh and knew not what she spoke of. “The Pharosh are of the west, yet you speak of them when we have travelled north. It appears that I am not the only one who is challenged geographically.” I laughed to myself, though she did not share in the joke.

“The water you see before us joins with the Great River West which governs the border of the Pharosh’ homeland. They maintain its warmth to prevent unwanted trespassers crossing by foot over ice.”

I had not been cold since entering this strange forest where snow did not fall and wind did not chill. Warming myself at the flames was not necessary, but I enjoyed the comfort it brought my mental state. “I lack the mental energy for your stories or explanation. Enjoy the water. I will likely be here when you return, though I cannot promise my eyes will remain attentive.” I turned back to the fire, my eyes beginning to close from the fatigue caused by a full belly.

“You know not what your eyes are missing.” I barely heard her and only knew of the clothes she left by the wayside as she proceeded to the water from the shadows they cast in the peripheral of my drooping lids.

Glanderxe - Chapter 8

If I thought the tale she had told me the night previous was the spawn of imagination, the story that she told me now was even greater in the direction of fantasy. I remembered times as a child when Miranda and I would sit on the floor of our humble home in Coere Ghante, listening to tales of terror, love, and adventure. Mother used to tell the best stories, but that’s just what they were... stories: fantasy the mother and imagination the father, giving birth to such great tales of adventure. They were believably fiction, and the story I heard that day was much the same, filled with things that could not possibly be real... but they were. It was not the substance of the tale that made it different from mother’s, nor was it anything about the story itself. How did I know it was truth? Kyra of the Tallri told me the story of her life.

She talked of a forest which I was somewhat familiar with, having travelled through it myself just recently. She talked of wolves and ravens, and beast of every kind that roamed in those woods, but more importantly... of the Tallri: her people. They originated from the southern swamps of Coaniariam, but through the years had migrated elsewhere. Her tribe had settled in the Mhoarid forest just north of the walls of the great city. They was very religious by nature, all their directions given by the voice of Riul herself. She guided their every thought, desires, and actions. Those who refused to submit to the voice of Riul in all things were cast out of the forest, the Taint overtaking them. Kyra was one such Tallri.

“Does Riul look down on those who commit crimes of thievery?” I said, half in jest.

“Riul cares not for the things of men, their cities or possessions. She cares for her people and their home: nature. She does, however, look down on those who refuse her will.”

“And what is it that you refused?”

She looked at me bitterly, “That is for me alone to know. What would it benefit you, knowing my crimes?”

My curiosity desired an answer, but reason overtook it. She had a point. What business of mine was her past? I decided that it would be best to stick to the matters at hand. “Fair enough. I suppose everyone can have their secrets. One secret you cannot have is this: why do you stay with me? Was it not enough to leave me alone last night? Why return to feed my belly and dress my wounds?”

Her eyes responded before her mouth. That same look of awe remained, but was coupled with bafflement. “You direct the voice of Riul like none other has for generations. It would not be right to leave someone so blessed by Her behind...” She paused for a moment and I saw her lips curl upwards slightly, showing the pleasure she drew from her next statement. “...even if arrogance does dampen your appeal.”

Her smile was mirrored by my own. “I see that all pleasantries are set aside. I am arrogant again. Very well, if you persist with such a title then I will forever call you the Thief.” She said nothing in reply and we both remained in awkward silence for a time. Her previous awe of my ability to direct the voice of Riul was as unexpected as the pleasure I now received by her company. A thief she was, and that she would remain. I trusted her no more than I did before, but I no longer viewed her with the same hostility. I’m not sure whether it was the awe she now held for my “power over nature” or that she felt free to share her life story with me that caused this change in my demeanour, the root of these changes remaining obscured. It was, perhaps, because of such changes that I addressed her as Thief. “As it stands, Thief, we seem to have travelled further north than I had intended. Do you know anything of these mountains?” My travels had never carried me further than the northern edge of the city, and I only knew of Dete Plych because of Sir Reuben. Never had I visited it nor known anything of the road ahead.

“These mountains separate Glanderxe Coessarde from Keltone Coessarde. The frozen wastes of the north lay before us if we continue north through the mountains.”

I had no intention of travelling further north. Cold had never been favourable to me. “The great River West is my destination, not a wasteland.”

“There is more than one way to reach the Great River. The river does not run north to south, but turns to meet a frozen lake in the north. The great road might prove more favourable if climate is your only consideration. If your time be of greater value, the northern route would be best.”

I considered her words before formulating a reply of my own. Could she be trusted? She was the still same thief I had met only days ago... but I knew nothing of the world around me. Whether she spoke truth or deception was as great a mystery as the mountains themselves. If things were as she said, I could relay the queen’s message in due haste and thus end this fool’s errand I had accepted. “Very well.” I said, hoping the words sounded more convincing out loud than they did in my head. “If the route is shorter by travelling north, then north we shall go.”

She got up from the place that she had been sitting, as if to begin the journey without delay. I was no fool. “It may be best, however, to return to road, if not simply to gather supplies for the journey. The fight last night not only took the lives of many wolves, but also my pack of supplies, hidden behind a wall of fallen rocks in a location that is now a mystery to me.”

Kyra laughed a little before responding in turn. “You forget, Sir Mert, that I am Tallri. Riul has blessed us all with an attunement to nature unmatched by men. It will be nothing at all for me to find enough food, water, and firewood to last us for months in these hills.”

Months. The thought was daunting. “I pray we won’t be travelling for that long.”

“No need for prayer. The journey will be much shorter than that. May Riul bless us with the speed of the wolf and eye of the hawk as we traverse these lands.”

***

The nights were colder than I was used to, but the beauty of the stars made up for it. Whether in my shack at Coere Ghante, or my chambers in the castle Glanderxe, the night sky was not something I enjoyed as much as I should. In the Great City, every night was the same. I would enjoy pillows fit for royalty, finding comfort in the soft feathers against my cheeks while being cocooned in thick blankets made of fine silk. Few stars could be seen out my window, but many lights of the town shone bright as others traded the comfort of pillows for that of strong drink and companionship. Out in the wilds, every night was different. Some nights the sky was clear and the fresh crisp breeze came down from the mountain tops, sweeping over our camp like a maiden’s kiss. Other nights, great puffs of inky darkness would cover the sparkling sky diamonds and shroud the moon in blackened garments.

I imagined fire erupting from the great mountain peaks around me, mixing with the clouds to form a great obsidian canopy, speckled with more diamonds that I had ever seen, dotting the clear night sky. Their beauty sparkled true, shining bright against the molten rock which held them suspended against the will of gravity. Overhead, I saw a host of ravens, extinguishing the stars with their mighty wings. The flock grew as they circled above me, birds coming from all directions. They flew faster and faster as I watched them, circling like a mighty tornado. Soon there were too many birds to count and their locomotive speed denied my eyes from distinguishing one from another. They became like an opaque black spot in the sky before descending. The moon in the sky and the black spot aligned, making it seem like a pupil in the eye of the white moon. It came alive, blinking once, then twice, as it descended on my position. Fear paralysed me as I watched the mighty eye move closer and closer. It hung over the camp site like a drifting shadow, darkening my surroundings.

Ravens burst from the centre of the eye landing on the outskirts of the shadowed circle surrounding me. As they landed I saw them lose their wings and morph into beasts with fangs, their talons being replaced by wolves’ claws. Their voices rose in unison, calling to the eye-moon from which they had come, before commencing their prowl. The circle of wolves around me shrank as they drew closer, stalking me like prey in the night. I had nowhere to run. No hope. All I could do was wait in horror of the vicious death which would soon claim me. Reaching for my belt, I answered the wolf call with one of my own from the Horn of Riul. The wolves drew ever closer as I blew again and again, hoping for salvation. In unison, they sprang from the ground, taking on raven wings, before landing on my chest in one mighty blow. I could feel their teeth digging into my skin, legs now raw and bleeding. Looking to the sky, from beneath the wolves, I saw the eye-moon descending, changing to a mighty boulder as it drew closer, falling by gravity’s aid. The eye-moon boulder landed on the wolf pack, giving me relief from the knife-like fangs which had pierced my skin. Dust rose from the ground as the boulder hit, obscuring my vision. As it cleared, I saw what remained: one lone-wolf, leg pinned under the mighty stone...

***

I woke with a start, checking myself over to make sure that the dream had not spilt over into reality. Letting out a deep sigh, I was relieved, though still a bit on edge. I had not been sleeping well lately, not that this was a change from the norm. My twilight hours had been haunted by memories of the beautiful Farah Bailey, which I cherished now. Her face was comforting, though it always left me a little sick, thinking of her parting words to me that day. Despite this, I would trade the wolves which now haunted my dreams with the sight of her face in a heartbeat. A fortnight had passed since the wolf attack that first night in the cave, but the night would not let me forget. It’s memory stuck with me like an unwanted companion, desperate for my attention.

I had not shared my night terrors with Kyra of the Tallri, but it would not surprise me if she knew of them. She had noticed my lack of energy by day and wasted much of her own informing me that a loyal knight of Glanderxe should sleep at night to better prepare for vanquishing all manner of evil which may cross his path by day. I responded to this jest with one of my own, saying that the Thief must be in league with the cold, for it did not rob me of coin, but of sleep.

As a resident of Glanderxe, I was not accustomed to the harsh weather of the Keltone Coessarde. I thought the mountains to be hard on the feet and desired to be done with them as soon as possible. Once we had reached the end of the pass, however, I wished to be in the mountains once again. They provided some protection from the mighty gusts which kicked up the snow in all directions, causing a swirling mass of icy chaos to be our constant companion. Out in the frozen wasteland of the north, past the Keltone mountains, the days were long, but the nights were longer. Sometimes we were lucky and managed to find a small cluster or spruce before nightfall, but this was more the exception than the rule. I had heard it said that Glanderxe Coessarde was unlike all the others. The swamps of Coaniariam and the frozen mountains of Keltone held fewer inhabitants, and even fewer cities. Though I knew this before the journey, I expected fewer to mean some, but we had encountered nothing... no one on this frozen road.

If this was the shorter route, I hated to think of the route we had taken at first. I was more than ready to reach the River West, if not to be done with this quest, simply for the sight of civilization once again. We passed by many rock formation, seemingly man-made, yet no men around who could have fashioned them. Once I asked Kyra about them, and she responded simply by saying, “It is the way of the north.” The only hint of life that was common were the purple flowers which managed to poke their heads out from beneath the snow. Kyra always stopped to collect a handful of these before continuing. She found incredible uses for all sorts of plants and herbs which I would not have imagined.

Our staple meal in the north had become a soup which she made by melting snow in a pot she had fashioned from a hollowed out log of spruce. She kept it from burning up in the heat of the fire by rubbing it with the petals of the purple flowers. The leaves from the plants she put in the pot for flavouring and sometimes added a few pine needles, if we had happened upon a spruce grove recently. They gave the water a bitter taste, but added much nutritional value to the otherwise bland meal. When fuel for a fire was running low, we chewed on the stem of the purple flower plant instead of boiling them in a stew. It was less appetizing, but I leaned to appreciate the bitter-sweet flavour when my stomach called to me and my legs grew tired from lack of energy.

Day after day we trudged through the snow with little change in scenery and less change in food. Though my body received life from the plants, my soul did not. The constant bite of cold and never ending bitter taste from the plants left me weak and disheartened. The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that I had been particularly chosen for this mission. Out of a great host of noble knights, I was hand-picked by Sir Kherine, captain of the guard at Glanderxe. I had not thought much of it then, but now that I found myself trudging through the snow facing all manner of mental fatigue, I held onto a sense of pride. Sir Reuben knew that the trek would be long and hard and must have advised Sir Kherine of this. I didn’t grow up in the great city, and so had the upper hand on some of my brother’s in arms when dealing with all manner of beast and climate that little effected those within the high walls of the capital.

Despite the brief joy I received from such thoughts, the tree-line which soon appeared before us was the most favourable sight I had seen in weeks. This didn’t look like a small grove of spruce, but rather a long line of greenery stretching across the horizon. Kyra had been watching my demeanour fade as the days dragged on and comforted me now with these simply words. “The Keltone forest.”

I had never been more happy in my life to hear that word: forest. Trees. Life. It may be that luck would yet again play a cruel trick, the forest being as uninhabited as the rest of this Coessarde, but I hoped otherwise. Holding onto this hope I posed a question to Kyra, the Tallri. “What do you know of this forest? Is it anything like the Mhoarid of the south?”

She laughed as if what I had said was the funniest thing she had heard in a while. I did not understand the cause for such an outburst, but I wouldn’t be surprised if anything would sound funny to her at this point. I couldn’t be the only one who had been taxed mentally over the past weeks amongst the snow. Her laughter made my hope sink a little while I waited for her response, but when it came, it was not what I was expecting. “The Mhoarid is not south, though I suppose by perspective it would seem to be. Coaniariam is south. There you will find great forests teaming with all varieties of plants and animals. The Mhoarid is a mere spot of green on the map compared to the Coaniariam of the south.”

“My apologies.” I replied, exposing my lack of sincerity more than I would have hoped. “I did not mean to insult you geographically. If I ever find myself in the teaming woods of Coaniariam, then would be the time for tales of the life therein. Now, however, I find it more profitable to discuss the forest at hand. What of the Keltone forest? I do not suppose it is as lush as the Coaniariam, or perhaps even the Mhoarid. Lack of knowledge is a great crime indeed which my intrigue seeks to pay for, if you would so indulge me.”

“Alright, no need for defensiveness. I swear you are a true knight on the outside, but also within, for you hide behind whatever shield you can conjure up in conversation as well as in combat.” After this insult, which I chose to ignore, she continued. “The Keltone forest holds more life than the great plains we have passed through, yet it takes a keen eye, and greater wit than most to recognize it. The trees provide greater protection from the elements, thus much of the north make their home under its great canopy. The common traveller would, however, find nothing more than the rustling of leafs to accompany their stay.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be hopeful that the forest held inhabitants, or whether to let luck win this battle of the mind. “A forest for hermits.” I said, almost under my breath.

“It is not the recluse, but rather the sly who make their home in the forest. Follow my lead and perhaps we will be lucky this day.”

Lucky... From what I knew of luck it was far from in our favour. “What, pray tell, would you hope luck to fortune us with.”

No words had ever sounded sweeter on the mouth of Kyra, the Thief. “I hope, Mert, to catch us some meat. We are going hunting.”