The Naming

by Torsten Weitze

  The inhabitants of the Knight Marshes hardly batted an eyelid as they passed by. Falk’s noble appearance as a knight of the kingdom ensured a respectful distance and even if from time to time Jelninolan was looked at suspiciously, the elf was free to continue on her way.

  They did, however, come across many priests of the Illuminated Path, who could be found holding forth in the village squares, speaking to the simple folk. Falk would make a big detour around them so they could never overhear what was being said, but the mistrustful looks that Jelninolan received spoke volumes.

  In such villages Falk and Uldini too seemed to arouse suspicion and one evening as they were sitting around the campfire, the Arch Wizard spoke. ‘I used a little magic to listen in. It seems the cultists are trying to stir up the simple folk. “The taxes are too high”, “the elves are to blame”, or “it’s all the knights’ fault”, things like that. Nice and simple, easy to learn and perfect for anyone who wants to blame everyone else for their own inadequacies. Unfortunately, those are just the sorts of people who will willingly accept the next step in the enticement: “submit yourself to the Illuminated Path and we will free you from all your cares’’’.

  The Wizard’s concern was written in his face and Jelninolan whispered almost inaudibly, ‘that’s how it always starts. They lay the foundation for a senseless war between their own people and their allies. A war which nobody can win’.

  The rest of the group pondered this before all retiring anxiously to their beds.

  As if to confirm the Wizard’s words, they were met the following day by a procession of people.

  Two dozen haggard, filthy figures in plain linen garb were being led westwards by a cultist in a white robe who was carrying a golden book under his arm. The faces of the believers were glowing with fanaticism and more than one of them made a point of spitting in Jelninolan’s direction.

  There was such a sad look on the elf’s face that Ahren automatically gripped his sword without knowing what he was doing. Falk pointedly cleared his throat and the apprentice loosened his grip before deliberately looking off into the wheat fields, which were being harvested.

  Once the group of pilgrims were gone, Ahren turned towards the others.

  ‘Did you see their grim faces? I really thought they were going to attack us. And where on earth are they going?’ he spluttered hurriedly.

  The others looked at him with serious looks and then strode on without answering his questions. His nose out of joint, he spurred his horse on, and the rest of the day passed by in a dark mood.

  He received his answer that evening, when they had retired to the barn of an old, half-deaf farmer, where they were to spend the night. A light drizzle was coming down and the smell of damp straw surrounded them.

  ‘What you saw there was a purification procession’, said Uldini with barely contained rage. ‘Which means that the people are on their way to the Pall Pillar where they intend to purify the Adversary with their solemn prayers. The power of their prayers is supposed to direct the power of the THREE directly towards the Pillar and destroy the sleeping god within.’

  Ahren stare in open-mouthed irritation at the Arch Wizard. When he didn’t continue, Ahren pursued the topic.

  ‘But surely that doesn’t work. If they go too near to the Pall Pillar…’

  ‘…he will force them into his charm.’ Falk had interrupted the young man and his voice was rough. ‘Every one of them out there will become a Low Fang, or even a High Fang if his will is strong enough to be able to survive the touch of the enemy’s spirit.’

  Ahren stared, shaken, into the fire. The fact that more than twenty living beings, each with their own hopes, memories and dreams, were going on their way to be tricked in the most devious manner imaginable, stunned him into silence. When he had finally collected himself, he looked pleadingly at the others.

  ‘But why didn’t we intervene?’ he asked frantically. ‘We could have saved them!’

  Jelninolan shook her head wearily.

  ‘That was tried before. They are convinced they are doing the right thing. Of course, we could have attacked the cultist and even slain him and scattered the group, but what then? An elf and a knight kill a man of the cloth and prevent believers from purifying the Pall Pillar. That would be exactly the story they would relate to the others. And then there would be more recruits, ten times more than before. This conflict cannot be won by impetuous action’, she said. Then she pulled her knees into her chest and looked ruefully into the flames.

  ‘There are only two ways of getting at the Illuminated Path. Either by sending out hundreds of volunteers to go through the villages and confront the cultists as they are preaching, or by revealing a high ranking priest of the Illuminated Path to be a High Fang – as publicly as possible, so that the story will spread of its own accord’, explained Uldini.

  Ahren plucked up his courage. ‘But can’t we do that to the priest who’s leading the procession?’ he asked excitedly. He was on the point of jumping up and running to his horse so that he could help the poor souls before they marched to their destruction.

  Falk nodded. ‘We could do that indeed. If he was one’, the old Forest Ranger answered drily.

  Ahren looked helplessly at his master. ‘So, he isn’t a High Fang?’, he asked in a low voice.

  Uldini shook his head and gestured helplessly with his hands.

  ‘I’d tested him with some magic. He was just as human as the rest of them. Only considerably more fanatical. Can you see our problem now? The Enemy is making us do his work for him. Either we let them go on, and he gets more followers, or we hold them up using force, and he still gets more followers.’

  The voice of the Arch Wizard was filled with scorn and he took his crystal ball and called for Elgin again. Again, the ball glowed red until with a yell of fury, Uldini hurled the sphere against the wall, from where it ricocheted with a crash before floating slowly back to his hand.

  ‘Behave yourself, Uldini’ said Jelninolan but with such a maternal voice that Ahren couldn’t help smiling in spite of the dreadful dilemma they were in.

  The Arch Wizard gave her a furious look, but it was only a few heartbeats before he gave in.

  ‘Yes, auntie’, he mumbled, and Ahren looked away so nobody could see him laughing.

  Then he thought of the hopeless group on their way to the Borderlands and the smile was wiped off his face.

  They continued their journey eastward, into ever more densely populated stretches of land. The buildings were becoming older and bigger, the roads wider and the villages more full of life.

  ‘The Knight Marshes have their origins on the east coast of the country’, Falk explained to his apprentice. ‘From there they pushed their way ever deeper in to the west, as far as the Red Posts. If they hadn’t been held up by the clans from Kelkor and the Green Sea, the Knight Marshes would probably have become the next human empire. Every stage we’re taking eastwards is bringing us closer to the heartland, the Old Marshes.’

  It was becoming more and more difficult for the group to avoid the larger villages, until finally they couldn’t bypass them. They strode through side streets or through outlying farms, always trying to avoid unwanted attention. At least they didn’t have to worry about Dark Ones, as Falk had assured him. Because of the high number of knights and patrols, the Old Marshes was one of the most secure areas in north-eastern Jorath.

  Unless you were an elf, that is.

  As they were riding through a little town, hardly more than a collection of forty huts, they were suddenly confronted by an angry mob of people, blocking the way. They were speaking so loudly it was like bedlam and everyone was gesticulating. Ahren could see behind them a thick pall of smoke rising from a granary, and the attitudes of the farmers ranged from stunned shock to incandescent rage.

  ‘Back, back now!’ hissed Uldini, but it was already too late. One of the farmers saw their group and pointed with a shaking finger at Jelninolan.

  ‘The elf!
Of course, it was the elf who set fire to our provisions. They want to starve us before they attack us!’

  The words were tumbling out of the accuser in a mixture of fear and wild blood lust. To a man and woman, the villagers turned to face them and began to approach. Ahren was horrified to see pitchforks and threshing flails being raised in the midst of the outraged mob, before the improvised weapons were distributed among the growing gang.

  Falk looked around him wildly, but the farmhouses right and left offered no way through with the horses, and the way back only let them to a larger town. If anyone received news of the accusations there, they’d be dealing with more than a few angry farmers.

  He drew his sword.

  ‘There’s nothing for it, we’ll have to push through them! Uldini and I will try to create a passage; you two ride through as fast as you can!’

  Magical energy was already beginning to glow between the Arch Wizard’s fingers.

  ‘Sure you want to do that? I mean they are totally innocent people, even if they’re not behaving that way’, he asked Falk uncertainly.

  ‘Do you have a better idea? If I use the broad side of the sword, and you try something with a strong gust of wind, then we’ll only injure a few of them at most’, argued the Forest Guardian.

  Jelninolan was sitting, white as a sheet, on her saddle, staring at the raging mob, which was moving closer and closer and demanding the head of the priestess.

  Culhen was leaping back and forth in front of the horses and barking furiously at the villagers.

  Ahren thought feverishly of what they could do. He really didn’t want to injure anyone, but he knew in his heart of hearts that he would do anything to protect his travelling companion if anyone were to attack her. His eyes flashed in every direction and suddenly he had a brainwave.

  ‘What about Tanentan?’, he called out quickly and fumbled at the elf’s saddlebag. She had taken it out twice during their journey to check for any damage, so he knew where he had to look.

  Jelninolan nodded vehemently and helped him to take out the oil-soaked cloth as quickly as possible. Ahren unwrapped it and held the musical instrument out to the priestess, so she could take it in her hands and begin playing it immediately.

  Just as during the Elvin Feast, no sound was emitted once the strings of the lute were plucked. Instead, Ahren could hear the individual notes in his head, so clear and so pure that they drowned out the screaming and shouting of the farmers.

  ‘I need time for it to be effective!’, called out the priestess, and Ahren reacted immediately. He leaped off his horse, planted himself in the middle of the path and began to carry out the most impressive looking sequence of parries and thrusts with Windblade. It would have been totally ineffective in a real fight, but it looked remarkably threatening.

  The mob hesitated as it came closer and Ahren glanced back.

  ‘A little help would be appreciated’, he called over his shoulder. The others didn’t hesitate for a heartbeat. Falk planted his armoured body beside his apprentice and swung his broadsword in terrifying-looking circles through the air, while Selsena reared up on her hind legs and whinnied threateningly.

  Meanwhile Uldini was causing little flashes to light up between the two Guardians and the mob, an illusion that had served him well when he was trying to make an impression on the elves in Evergreen.

  The rows in front were intimidated and stopped, but they were being pushed forward by the farmers behind who were secure in the knowledge that they weren’t in the front line.

  Ahren performed more dangerous looking manoeuvres with his blade, hoping all the while that Tanentan’s magic would soon take effect. The otherworldly musical notes were sounding more and more clearly in his soul, and he could feel an uncontrollable happiness overcoming him. He had to suppress an impulse to throw the sword aside and dance, and he did this by pulling his spirit back into the Void, in an attempt to insulate him from the effect of the music.

  His master was obviously feeling the same effects, as was Uldini, because the sparks were now flashing in time to the ethereal song, and the Arch Wizard was humming, unknown to himself.

  Ahren clenched his teeth and concentrated on further intimidating the mob.

  There were no more than two paces now separating master and apprentice from the nearest pitchforks and clubs when Ahren noticed the behaviour of the gang of farmers changing ever so slightly – like a gentle breeze that disperses a fog.

  First the weapons began to move in time to the music, then the feet, which rhythmically began to stamp the ground. Then the rows of villagers broke up, the weapons were thrown aside, and the villagers were linking arms, laughing and dancing around in a circle.

  The Void burst and Ahren was laughing too, he laughed until the tears were running down his cheeks. All of his cares were gone, far away and forgotten, as if after a summer thunderstorm, when the skies are clear and blue again.

  The young man threw himself into the arms of the dancers and was passed along from one to the next while the whole village rejoiced in celebration. He kept spotting the pall of smoke coming from the burning granary twelve dozen paces away, but this didn’t bother the apprentice in the least.

  The music in his head had drowned out everything else, leaving only a joie-de-vivre and exuberance. In the corner of his consciousness he saw some knights riding past, and he asked himself briefly if he shouldn’t invite them to dance too, but then the fleeting thought was gone, like all other thoughts, for the music made him happy and his cares had evaporated.

  Until suddenly two strong arms hoisted him up and placed him athwart his saddle. He didn’t find this as much fun as dancing, but he hummed on and bobbed his legs in time to the music.

  And in the distance he heard a sarcastic voice saying ‘oh, I’ll rub his nose in this for a long time yet’.

  Chapter 6

  75 days to the winter solstice

  Once they had ridden on a mile, Jelninolan stopped playing and the music in Ahren’s head died away. The levity with which he had just looked on life was gone as he regained control of his emotions.

  Strangely, it seemed to Ahren as though some of his troubles had disappeared. It was true that he was conscious of all the difficulties and problems he had to overcome, but his worries weren’t pressing so hard on his young spirit anymore. He could still hear the echoing of his carefree laughter in his head and he felt a remarkable lightness within himself.

  Ahren pulled himself awkwardly up in his saddle and sat upright. The others were grinning at him and the apprentice prepared for an onslaught of ridicule. He jutted out his chin aggressively and stared thunderously at them.

  ‘So what if I was dancing and laughing? It felt good and now I feel fantastic.’

  At the last second, he remembered not to cross his arms like a spoiled little brat. Instead he rested them in a deliberately relaxed manner on the pommel of his saddle and quietly hummed the melody of the song that had sparked the storm of joyfulness within him.

  Uldini opened his mouth in a nasty grin and drew in his breath to speak, but Jelninolan gave a warning hand gesture and smiled caringly at Ahren.

  ‘Leave him alone, the two of you. Tanentan seems to have really moved him and that is a priceless experience.’

  She looked deeply into Ahren’s eyes with a look of satisfaction.

  ‘Sometimes, when the soundless lute is played, you pick exactly the right song at the right time, which gives the listener a genuine feeling of peace. A feeling that lasts beyond the length of the song. And so, the melody helps to repair what is broken and to bring order to chaos.’

  She lovingly stroked the instrument in her arms

  ‘It seems you needed a good portion of joy with all the hardships you’ve had to endure in this world. We older ones forget so quickly what it’s like to be young. Perhaps we’re not aging physically, but nonetheless we’re getting older. I’m delighted that Tanentan was of help to you’, she concluded.

  Falk considered brief
ly what she’d said, and Ahren could see that the old man stopped himself from making a biting commentary and instead he could feel a wave of benevolence from Selsena, which presumably was directed at his master.

  ‘Selsena would like to tell you that it was a good idea to use the lute as a means of solving our problem with the farmers.’ He cleared his throat and hesitated before continuing. ‘I can only say “amen” to that. That was very good work, boy.’

  Ahren beamed with happiness.

  ‘With a bit of luck, you might eventually become a half-way decent Forest Guardian in the far distant future’, his master concluded.

  That wiped the grin off the young man’s face, only to appear instead on the faces of Falk and of Uldini, who nodded to each other in satisfaction.

  Jelninolan rolled her eyes and ruffled Ahren’s hair.

  ‘Don’t listen to those two old grumpy bears, they’re only jealous because they didn’t have the idea and were on the point of harming innocent people’, she said pointedly.

  Her words were like a bucket of icy water being thrown over the two men, and both fiddled around in embarrassment with their saddles.

  ‘Better a grumpy bear than a dancing bear’, said Uldini finally. He and Falk strode ahead laughing coarsely, leaving Ahren and the priestess in their wake.

  The apprentice and the elf moved off too, and Ahren asked a question that had been bothering him.

  ‘Why did the lute have such little effect on all of you? The farmers and I were completely out of control’, he asked.

  ‘We have been under the spell of Tanentan quite a few times already and so we have much more practice in handling it. In Evergreen a few weeks ago I only evoked a memory but no emotions. Today was a foretaste of Tanentan’s real power. That’s why I so rarely put it into effect’, the priestess answered.