Ghosts Of Alfhaven (Book 2) (9 page)

Sawain's head swam with all of this information. He took a deep breath and tried to sort it out. He was both excited and disappointed. He was thrilled to finally find some living relatives, but was forced to forget about having a chance with Naralei.

“
So, we're all that's left of our family? What happened?”

Naralei's expression turned to one of sorrow, “You haven't heard the war stories?”

Sawain shook his head. Naralei sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, they glistened with tears.

“
I guess you should hear them then. First of all, this is just the short and simple version. There's a lot more to it than this, but it will hopefully answer some questions about your past and your mother. First of all, your mother was a very young elf when everything started. My father was not very old himself, only a hundred or so, but your mother was actually closer to our age. She was the baby of the family. She was a full fledged ranger by sixteen, and led her own team when she was eighteen. They called her a child prodigy. She manifested druidic powers when she was in her early twenties, making her one of the youngest druids ever.

Well, Alfhaven law says when one manifests the druidic gifts, that person must enter into training immediately. The only problem with your mother was she was already an established and accomplished ranger. Our entire clan was ranger by tradition. Well, Skalda did as she was expected and left her post as a ranger captain to enter into the solitary life of a druid.

She trained under an elder for a year, honing her skills and her magic. Where most druidic magic manifested as a sort of shield, made for protecting the forest, your mother's shaped differently. She was a ranger by birth. Her vision of protecting Alfhaven was a more active, offensive approach.

She abandoned the life of a druid, not able to agree with or bend to their world view. She returned to her station as a ranger captain in our clan. The rest of Alfhaven saw this as an outrage, and some even as heresy. Our clan was always fiercely protective of its own and welcomed her back with open arms. That was about the time the war started with Jordborg.

It began over border disputes, as usual. They set up lumber mills along the edge of the forest and were cutting down our trees to fuel their war machine. The real dispute was between Jordborg and Anvilheim. The Triumvirate did not want to get involved, but Skalda, already ostracized as it was, was not content with sitting idly by as the southern forest was destroyed.

She had a lot of political pull within the clan. She was a sharp tactician and a fierce warrior. Our people would follow her to the grave, which most did. She formed a small army of elves they called the Outriders. They rode out from the forest like raiders, sacking and burning the mills in the night.

Jordborg retaliated with massive force, but the Outriders were fast and powerful. Skalda fused her druidic magic with her fighting style, earning the name Briaredge. Skalda Briaredge became a living legend. She killed Jordborg's men by the hundreds and destroyed all of the mills, which saved the forest. Unfortunately, near the end of the war, our people fell into a terrible trap.

Jordborg planted false intelligence about a new mill under construction and set up a walled wooden gate. The outriders took the bait and raided it one night. When they burst into the camp, a hundred trained soldiers and fifty hired thugs were laying in wait. It was a slaughter. Not even Skalda's magic could save them. We were all told by the triumvirate that everyone was killed. My father, who was an outrider, did not go with them that day, because he was wounded in an earlier battle, and my mother stayed behind to tend to him while he recovered. It's the only reason they didn't die that day too.

My mother was delirious. She left us one night not a week later to look for Skalda. We never saw her again. My father assumed she was captured and killed. I always imagined she would go down fighting. We were all that was left.

That was the story, anyway, until you showed up. When you claimed to be the son of Skalda, my father nearly unraveled on the spot. That night, he cried for the first time since the destruction of the Outriders. He cried for hours. Your appearance has given us hope, Sawain. There's a chance that others were taken captive by Jordborg as well, even my mother,”

Sawain listened silently to the story Naralei told him. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he learned of his mother's legacy.

“
When I came here and appeared before the Triumvirate, they approved the creation of a new Outrider army for my crusade against the Grey King. Now I see that it was, to them, simply a delayed execution, one they saw fit for the son of Skalda Briaredge. Well, I'm going to disappoint them. I will proudly take up my mother's legacy, I will make it my own, and I will succeed in my quest, to restore her honor and that of our family, as well.”

Naralei leaned over and kissed Sawain on the cheek, “I will gladly ride with you, cousin. You know that all of Mirehawk would follow you to death's door. You've proven yourself a capable leader countless times in the short time you've been here. Everyone loves you, even Banthan, though he'll never admit it.”

Sawain blushed, “Thank you, Nara. I'll need all the help I can get. I'll finish my training, then I have to go find someone important to my quest who lives in a dangerous part of Alfhaven. I would be honored if Mirehawk would accompany me.”

Naralei grinned, “Count me in! You know you have Tobi's vote too. I can also tell you that you have Loraleth's vote too,” she winked.

Sawain looked at her curiously, “Why would you say that?”

Naralei punched Sawain's arm, “Can't you tell? She's always at your side. She's offered you, and only you, knife throwing lessons, she even talks about you all the time. That girl really is in love with you!”

Sawain felt embarrassed that he did not notice it. When he thought back over the last few months, he realized that Nara was right.

“
I guess I was so wrapped up in training, I didn't notice.”

Naralei sighed, “Well, be careful, Sawain. The last thing you need on your team is a heart-broken girl. She's likely to get us all killed.”

Sawain nodded and felt incredibly stressed now. He looked up at the fiery blossoms still erupting in the sky.

“
I'll keep it in mind. You know, this time last year, I was making a birthday wish for freedom from thralldom, now look at me. I guess my wish finally came true.”

Naralei rested her head on Sawain's shoulder and smiled, “Well, happy birthday. I hope it was a good one.”

Sawain nodded as he reflected on it. It was his first birthday as a free man, he found the family his heart was longing for, he found out more about his mother, and he got to share an amazing night with a new best friend.

“
Yeah, it was a good one.”

Chapter 9

The days continued to pass quickly to Sawain as his training intensified. Captain Nerelis was absent more frequently than ever. Lady Tirinele would spend a week at times drilling Mirehawk in more advanced tactics, as well as her usual regime of arcane defense. Sawain's mind felt wracked beyond consciousness from time to time, but he began to resist her mind games more often. Mari got to the point within a month that she could easily counter even a higher level spell with her countersong, so Tirinele had her sit out during these sessions so she could prepare the others for situations when Mari was out of commission.

Nerelis began to show his favor toward Sawain more openly. He would keep Sawain later than the others when he was at the Fort. The Captain instructed Sawain in the finer points of being a leader at dinner time. Sawain wondered if this would cause problems with the others, especially Banthan. He always complained about every decision Sawain made. Whenever he was given an order, he would find some way to contest it.

Sawain grew tired of the confrontational elf's attitude. He tried his best not to lash out at Banthan, but it was as if Banthan dared him to take the swing. Every time his self-proclaimed rival irked Sawain, he simply blew him off as a nuisance. This clearly invoked ire in Banthan. Tension between the two grew stronger every day.

One day, under Tirinele's watch, Sawain devised a new formation for scouting and wanted to run it, but Banthan was vocally unhappy with it. This was the third attempt at the formation, but Banthan refused to cooperate with Sawain.

“Why are you putting me in the back? I'm not afraid to take point! My eyes are the sharpest on the team!”

Sawain sighed and rubbed his temples, “This is supposed to simulate a riding formation. I need you in the back so you can watch our flanks. It has nothing to do with anything else, Banthan.”

Banthan growled and began to speak, but Sawain cut him off, “Alright, Mirehawk, fall into position. Let's run it again. Banthan, just do as you're told.”

Banthan grew red and snarled at Sawain, but he did not humor him. He turned his back on the ill tempered elf and got to his position in the formation. Banthan wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword.

“You think you can talk down to me because you're the son of a celebrity who got herself killed? You think I'm going to just pity you and fall in line, even though your leadership is worse than your dead mom's?”

Banthan lunged at Sawain and drew his sword from its scabbard in a slashing motion. Sawain had a feeling this was coming. He had waited ten months for this confrontation. He rolled forward and avoided the deadly cut. He bounced to his feet and drew his sword in time to parry another slice from Banthan.

The rest of Mirehawk drew their weapons, ready to come to Sawain's aid. Tirinele's voice stopped them.

“
No! This fight is between them. If Sawain is going to have a solid team, he has to prove his right to lead to everyone. This is the only way Banthan will accept him. Let them have their fight.”

The others silently and hesitantly obeyed. Sawain was still on defense. He parried a swift barrage of thrusts and slashes from the enraged Banthan. He allowed Banthan to continue his onslaught of blows. In his angered state, Banthan fought recklessly, and it did not take much energy to deflect his attacks, though they came quickly.

Sawain knocked away each attack with little effort. He led Banthan in a wide circle. Banthan grew tired as none of his attacks connected. Sawain decided to end the fight. He lowered his defense for a split second. Banthan thrust with all his might, aiming for Sawain's right shoulder. Sawain rolled that shoulder back and led Banthan past him. This threw Banthan off balance. Sawain spun around and followed the trajectory of his roll, then came around hard with his sword. He slammed the flat of his blade between Banthan's shoulders. The force of the blow, coupled with his lack of balance, sent Banthan to the ground. He landed hard, face first into the dirt of the training ring.

Sawain placed the tip of his curved blade on the base of Banthan's skull, “Are you done with your mutiny now, Banthan? Can we get back to training or do I need to beat some more sense into you?”

Banthan swatted the blade away and began to struggle to his feet. Sawain could tell by his frantic movements that Banthan still wanted a fight.  He kicked him hard in the ribs, which flipped him onto his back. Banthan groaned and grabbed at his sternum, wrapping both arms around it. Sawain quickly moved in and knelt down on Banthan's chest, which pinned his arms. Banthan gasped in pain as Sawain put all of his weight into the pin. Sawain snarled at Banthan. He felt the rage building in his chest.

“
Have you had enough now? I'm tired of you causing trouble for the team. You are our weakest link, Banthan, and I am about ready to break you loose! If you want to stay as a part of Mirehawk, you need to start pulling your weight and stop complaining about every order I give you! I want you on this team, you are a great spotter and a skilled swordsman when your head is in it. Tell me now, do you want to be on this team?”

Banthan glared at him for a moment while he struggled for breath. Tears welled up in his eyes, though Sawain did not know if it was from pain or regret. He looked away to the dirt and muttered a response.

“Yes.”

Sawain cocked his ear, “What was that?”

“Yes! I want to be on Mirehawk!”

Sawain smirked, “Then can you start following orders?”

Banthan responded hesitantly in a low growl, “Yes...”

“
What?”

“
Yes! Now let me up, you're crushing my ribs!”

Sawain stood up and released his opponent. Banthan sat up and rubbed his bruised ribs. Tirinele strode toward the two with her arms crossed.

“Well, now that you two are done with your squabble, can we--”

Her chastisement trailed off as her gaze caught something behind Sawain. He turned to see Captain Nerelis limping toward the group. A misty phantom strode alongside him, dressed in flowing robes and a fur trimmed cap. Naralei gasped when she saw the condition of her father and ran to him. He held up a hand to stop her advance.

“Stay back, Nara!”

He turned his focus to Tirinele, “Lady Tirinele, we must speak with you in private, immediately.”

The director's face was grim. She scowled, then hesitantly nodded.

“
Very well, meet me in my office. Mirehawk, you are to continue running drills.”

She stalked off, behind the other two at a hasty pace. Mirehawk Team was left alone in the ring, exchanging confused and anxious glances. Naralei was separated from the main group by a few paces, but was closest to Sawain and Banthan. She stared in the direction of her father, and grasped at the amulet around her neck. Sawain could tell she was worried. He walked to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I'm sure he's alright, Nara.”

Sawain mentally grimaced at his weak attempt at consolation. He did not believe his words. He was sure Naralei did not, either. The moment he saw Nerelis' reaction, visions of the horrors he saw in Underfell Town flashed through his mind. He was certain that the Grey King's forces found a way into the forest at last. He dropped his hand from his cousin's shoulder and marched past her. Her voice caught his ear. It was shaky and imploring.

“Where are you going?”

Sawain stopped only for a moment as he glanced over his shoulder, “to find Jatharr. I need to talk to him.”

Tobi called out to him next, “It's him, isn't it, Sawain? You think it's the one who attacked Anvilheim.”

Sawain halted in his tracks. He spun around and made a gesture with his hands that signified silence as he muttered in low tones.

“Keep it down, Tobi.”

He hesitated for a moment, then motioned for all of Mirehawk to come closer together. Everyone eagerly obeyed, even Banthan, who forgot about his irritation in all of the excitement. Sawain addressed them in a hushed voice.

“Do you remember the Grey King that I told you about when I first arrived? He's an undead giant who uses the magic called Necromancy to control the dead. He is the reason I am here. If his forces are threatening the forest, I may be the only one who can do anything about it. I need Jatharr though, because he has fought these monsters before. He can help me.”

Mari gawked incredulously at him, “So, what? You train with us for a year, you finally pull us together as a team, and now you're going to leave us? Not happening! We're going with you!”

Sawain shook his head, “No, this threat is too dangerous. These monsters are nothing like the things we've faced in training. They are nearly impossible to kill without a holy weapon.”

Loraleth glanced around. Sawain could tell she had an idea.

“What about a weapon blessed by the Arborhart?”

Sawain remembered reading in one of his books about a legend passed down by the elves of Alfhaven. The Arborhart was a sacred tree. Warriors would dip their blades in the resin of the Arborhart to receive its divine blessing before going out to battle during the great wars of old. It was a long shot, and Sawain did not really believe that tree sap could give a blade a holy edge. He also did not believe in the gods at all a year ago. He was not about to dismiss the idea of the Arborhart's blessing.

“That could work, but still...”

Naralei cut him off, “Sawain, we are all rangers. We are made for war. You know full well we can handle ourselves. Have we not proven that to you?”

Sawain hesitated, then smiled and nodded. “You're right. We are a team. Alright, Mirehawk, let's get moving. We need to locate some blessed weapons and we need to find Jatharr. Banthan, Mari, Timbrel, Loraleth: You four go to the Resin Pool in the Arborhart and bless our swords and knives. Everyone give them any weapons you plan on using. Try to pick up a bladed  buckler or a sword for Jatharr, as well. Nara, Tobi, you are coming with me to find Jatharr and get him on our side. It shouldn't be hard. I have a feeling he has not just been sitting around, getting fat the past ten months.”

This was more than a mere hunch. Sawain visited Jatharr and Marta often during his stay in Alfhaven. More than once, he was drafted to spar for hours with the energetic halfling warrior. Jatharr made sure his body and mind both stayed as sharp as his blade.

Everyone nodded and signaled comprehension of their respective missions. Knives and swords were passed to the four in charge of weaponry, then the two teams grouped together. Sawain looked them over, proud to have such a loyal band under his charge.

“
Alright, meet at the city gates in an hour and a half. That should give both teams plenty of time to accomplish their goals. Be careful not to tell anyone what we are doing. No one needs to know.”

Tobi piped up, “Not even the director?”

Sawain shook his head, “Not even the director. Enough talk, we're wasting time. Let's go.”

Everyone agreed in unison, then broke off and headed for their targets. Sawain's group did not make it past the main tower before a gruff feminine voice stopped them fast.

“Off so soon?”

Lady Tirinele leaned against the tower wall, beside the door. Her arms were crossed and she looked aggravated. Tobi turned as white as a ghost. Naralei froze like a statue, and Sawain stammered while his mind searched for an excuse.

“I-- We--”

Tirinele shook her head and waved her hand to cut him off, “Save it. You three come with me.”

Sawain was not about to disobey the Director of Rowan Circle Fort's direct order. He was sure the other two would agree. They fell in line and silently followed her into the tower.

She's going to kill us. I think I would rather face Hilmr again.

She led them up to the top of the tower and into her office. Sawain stepped through the door and noticed they were not the only ones in the room. Captain Nerelis sat in an armchair, brooding. His left leg was wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. The ghost that arrived with him stood silently beside the Director's desk. Jatharr leaned against the far wall, visibly uncomfortable, though Sawain was not sure if it was because of the ghost or the ill-tempered elf. He was just glad to see his old friend.

Jatharr perked up when he saw Sawain, “Yer a sight for sore eyes, Deathsbane! I hope yer ready to put yer training to the test!”

Sawain glanced at Nerelis, “So, I was right? Is the Grey King's army in the forest?”

Nerelis gave him a sideways glare that told Sawain that his uncle was in pain, “Not exactly. My squad was attacked by... a pack. They weren't the clumsy zombies that chased you into the forest last year. They were certainly dead. They had no heat signature. Our vipers never sensed them.”

Lady Tirinele shoved past Sawain and strode to her desk. She inquired to Nerelis.

“
Those bites on your leg were not cursed. You were lucky. You said the beasts they were riding looked like giant dogs with oversized canines?”

Nerelis nodded. Tirinele sighed and turned to the ghost.

“Elder Haros, do you know what they were?”

The ghost nodded, “In life, I served as the premier historian for the Triumvirate, and in death, I am still sought out for my knowledge. Yes, I know what they were. From the description Captain Nerelis gave the council, I can comfortably say that they are Bjornhunds. In Common, Bear Hounds. This massive breed of feral dog is native to the Frostwylde. Usually white or brown, sometimes black, depending on the region. Black Bjornhunds are more common in the rocky regions of the Frostwylde, near the Cobalt Mountains. The orcs of Grymhook use them as mounts because of their strength and ferocity. My educated guess is that you ran into Grymhook raiders or mercenaries.”