The Naming

by Torsten Weitze

  He knelt down in front of Culhen and looked into his loyal, intelligent eyes.

  ‘Go with Selsena. If anyone touches you or tries to lock you in, defend yourself’, he said loudly.

  Culhen gave a yelp, then licked Ahren’s face. The apprentice looked over at the Titejunanwa,

  ‘Promise me that you’ll take care of him.’

  A calming wave of serenity came over Ahren as Selsena conveyed her reassurance telepathically.

  He stared into the eyes of the war horse, gave a nod, then patted Culhen on the back, and the wolf trotted off obediently beside Selsena.

  Ahren looked after them briefly, then caught up with the others, who were waiting for him at the entrance.

  ‘What was that supposed to mean?’ snapped Uldini.

  ‘There are too many people here with cross bows. As far as I’m concerned, Culhen shouldn’t be let fall into a trap’, said Ahren gloomily. He felt vulnerable and unsure without the wolf at his side.

  ‘Leave my apprentice alone. If I didn’t know that Selsena could sense if anybody was approaching with evil intent, then I wouldn’t have left them on their own’, said Falk, defending the young man’s actions.

  Uldini glanced over at their escorts, and then came to the conclusion that a prolonged discussion might only damage his esteem. Instead he remained silent, flew up a little into the air so that he was hovering half a pace over the ground, and floated towards the throne room, whose enormous double doors, decorated in blue, stood open in front of them at the end of the long hallway.

  As they moved forward, the honour guard captain turned to Jelninolan.

  ‘M’lady, you can take off your head covering if you so wish. Elves are safe within these four walls as long as my people and I are keeping watch’, he said respectfully.

  Jelninolan immediately pulled back her hood and gave a thankful nod to the captain.

  Falk slapped him on the back. ‘Good man!’ he growled appreciatively.

  The effect of this simple gesture was amazing. The captain blushed like a Godsday schoolchild and proceeded to fidget, embarrassed at his uniform. Finally, he pulled himself together and clasped his hands behind his back.

  ‘The least I could do, m’lord’, he said modestly.

  While Ahren was digesting the respectful treatment which his master had received, they stepped into the throne room and he immediately became distracted by his surroundings. The room was spacious. Four mighty load bearing pillars divided up the room symmetrically. The first two pillars seemed to mark the boundary beyond which the common courtiers and petitioners couldn’t pass. Here, right and left of the blue carpet which led up to the throne, there was a colourful crowd of men and women of all ages and from every level of society, ranging from the simply dressed to the richly ornamented. Ahren only spotted three farmers, who were ill at ease in these surroundings although they were clearly wealthy. The less important petitioners were presumably fobbed off to the administration building and could never hope for an audience with the king.

  The space between the first and second pair of pillars was presumably for the king’s guards. Twelve heavily armed figures stood there, covered in armour plating, with their faces hidden behind visors. Each of the guards was large and broad shouldered and radiated a steady readiness, which nipped any thought of rebellion in the bud.

  As the group moved forward, Ahren noticed crossbowmen standing behind arrow-slits that were discretely positioned at the upper end of the high walls. The far end of the throne room was dominated by the throne itself and the person sitting on top of it.

  Senius Blueground was a man of middle years with sandy hair and a well-manicured beard. He wore a deep blue robe with a heavy cape which draped over the arms of his throne, which was also blue in colour. His head was adorned with a golden crown with a simple blue diamond at its centre.

  The hubbub died down and was replaced by total silence as Uldini floated into the room, and everyone stared at the little figure, who stopped three paces in front of the king and gave a single loud clap with his hands. Left and right of the regent stood the nobility and advisers to the king, charmed into stillness by the bombastic arrival of the Arch Wizard.

  ‘So, Senius, you wanted us to come, and here we are. Even though I’m delighted to see you, we are rather in a hurry. I suggest we skip the protocol and get straight to the point’, said Uldini in such a matter of fact manner that none of those present believed that the wizard had actually made a petition.

  In his mind’s eye, Ahren could already see swords flashing and bolts flying but to his amazement the king simply laughed and stood up immediately.

  ‘I’ve missed you, old Magus. I see your tongue still cuts through all the ceremonials’, said the monarch with amusement.

  Uldini shrugged his shoulders. ‘When necessary’, he said drily. The silence that surrounded them had now taken on a new quality. It had been curiosity and wonder that had stopped those present in their tracks, but now there was an air of indignation and forced respect. The majority of the courtiers were baffled by the fact that the king allowed himself to be spoken to like that, and that he was apparently even amused by the carry on.

  The monarch performed a strange formal gesture with his hands and suddenly the throne room was filled with movement. All the visitors and even the nobility left the room without saying a word, every one of them hastily bowing before disappearing back through the doors. Ahren noticed that behind the throne there were doors left and right and it was through these that the higher nobility and advisers made their exits.

  As the crowds were leaving the throne room, Falk grasped Ahren by the forearm and steered him to one of the pillars.

  ‘You stand there and don’t say a word unless you’re asked something. I want to see the perfect imitation of a Forest Guardian statue, is that clear?’ his master ordered in a hard but low voice.

  Ahren swallowed hard and nodded in awe. The doors closed behind the last few stragglers, and now only the travelling party and the king were left in the room. The throne room seemed enormous and Ahren dared to turn his head ever so slightly right and then left. From the corner of his eye he could see that the king’s guards were all strategically placed. A minimal glance upwards confirmed what Ahren suspected, that the crossbow men and women were still at their places and even had their weapons at the ready. One of them was pointing directly at Ahren, which promised a quick end if a decision was made to shoot. Ahren broke into a sweat and he stood stock still, eyes looking forward as he concentrated on the discussion now beginning.

  Uldini, Falk and Jelninolan bowed briefly before the ruler, who acknowledged this gesture of respect with a gracious nod. Then he leaned forward and fixed his eyes on them.

  ‘You’ve surely got wind of the unrest that’s been besetting the kingdom for the last few weeks. Rumours about marauding elves are doing the rounds, and there’s discord between the barons, the towns and the villages. Long forgotten feuds are igniting again, and all my efforts are in vain.’ And with that, King Senius fell back into his throne and rubbed his face. Suddenly, he didn’t seem the awe-inspiring authority but rather a man plagued by difficulties looking at Uldini with tired eyes. His shoulders were slouched, and his face was drawn. Ahren realised that he was now looking at the real Senius Blueground, the man behind the royal mask. He could sense the daily effort of will it took for the ruler to present an impression to the world that here was a man of strength and steely determination, and Ahren felt a wave of pity for him.

  Every young boy had dreams of killing the dragon, rescuing the damsel in distress and becoming the king – just like in the old tales. But just at this moment Ahren could think of nothing better than to be running freely through the forests with Culhen at his side and the fresh wind in his face.

  ‘We did stumble across a few complications, yes’, said Uldini drily in response to the king’s summary. ‘And what measures have you taken to deal with the problems?’ the wizard continued tensely.

&n
bsp; ‘I had proclamations delivered which exonerated the elves from all the incidents that have been taking place. I sent special messages to the northern barons ordering them not to break their ceasefire with the elves. And I also sent out religious leaders, who are travelling through the towns and villages, bringing spiritual peace to the inhabitants and calming their outraged passions.’ The king listed off his actions in a weary voice. ‘Brother Wultom has been an invaluable help in view of the fact that Elgin is incommunicado, now of all times’, he added with gratitude in his voice.

  Uldini was standing with his back to Ahren, but from where the apprentice was standing he could still see how the wizard had tensed up.

  ‘And who is Brother Wultom? Is old Conrad no longer in charge of the cathedral of THE THREE?’ asked Uldini, all innocence.

  The king’s answer shook Ahren to the core and was worse than the worst of his forebodings.

  ‘Yes, yes, Conrad is still the abbot of the church. Brother Wultom belongs to a small religious community whose aim is to assist the poor and the desperate. They call themselves “the Illuminated Path”. They established a soup kitchen in the harbour last year and they give out clothing to anybody who is in urgent need. When tidings of the unrest reached us, Brother Wultom presented himself to me. He said he was prepared to send his brothers and sisters out to reconcile any of the warring parties, and as I had heard nothing but good things about their work in the harbour, I happily assented.’

  The king turned towards Falk.

  ‘You know what the barons are like – good with their swords and at the ready when ordered, but when it comes to the worries and needs of the common folk, we’ve always depended on the church. It was a real godsend having over sixty men and women of the cloth ready to travel the length and breadth of the kingdom to help in these difficult times.’

  Falk frowned but said nothing. Uldini, on the other hand, seemed to be on the point of venting his spleen in an explosion of magical discharges.

  Jelninolan noticed the wizard’s demeanour and quickly intervened.

  ‘I am grateful that you haven’t given credence to the rumours concerning my folk. I can assure you that Eathinian is still bound to the Knight Marshes in a spirit of friendship’, she said formally but sincerely.

  King Senius looked at her half-relieved but also half-ashamed.

  ‘I am happy to hear it and apologise for any injustices you may have experienced at the hands of my subjects on your journey here’, he said contritely.

  Uldini had his emotions under control again and turned to the monarch again to ask further questions.

  ‘Would it be possible for us to get to know this Brother Wultom? His help in this crisis seems to be all-embracing, and it would be sensible to consult with him concerning any further measures’, said the wizard, his voice as soft as velvet.

  Ahren only recognised the threatening undertone because he had been travelling with the cantankerous immortal through the country over several lunar months.

  The king, innocent of all, smiled broadly.

  ‘But of course. I shall send for him immediately’, he said loudly.

  Ahren heard the door of the throne room quietly open and close. It seemed the monarch did not even need to give the order, for someone to rush off in search of the priest.

  ‘Brother Wultom’s religious duties take him all over the harbour so it may take some time. I have put a room at his disposal here in the palace, but due to his modest nature he rarely makes us of it. So, I propose that you freshen yourselves up and allow my steward to go through the protocol. Then you can disarm yourselves so that my guard of honour won’t have to be pointing their weapons at you all the time, and there won’t be any talk of the king being led a merry dance by one of the Ancients.’ The ruler gave Uldini a piercing look. ‘You understand the necessity of keeping up appearances to hold the rabble in check.’

  Uldini nodded in agreement and stepped back from the king.

  ‘Just one request before we retire. Don’t mention us to Brother Wultom. My reputation can be quite intimidating, and I’d like him to be as relaxed as possible when he approaches us’, said the wizard in a neutral tone. Ahren admired the wizard’s ingenuity, and not for the first time, swore silently never to underestimate him.

  The king nodded, a look of understanding on his face, and made another gesture with his hands. Immediately the doors were flung open and the mass of people that had been waiting outside streamed in. Senius Blueground went through his wondrous transformation again and was now sitting upright and serious on his throne, every inch the king and commander.

  Ahren’s companions bowed again and the apprentice followed suit. Then they all stepped out of the throne room.

  Ahren’s thoughts were in turmoil. Not only was the Illuminated Path rapidly plunging the country into chaos, but it had the backing of the well-meaning king, who was completely in the dark concerning its true motives.

  A large, portly man of thirty summers or so was waiting outside the throne room. He had a carefully cultivated moustache and his clothes were resplendent. This had to be the steward, for he began to shower the surrounding servants with a litany of commands, all of which were connected with the travel party’s clothing, hairstyle, length of beard, accommodation and cleaning. He had an open, kindly way about him which made him difficult to refuse. Ahren was sure that much of the advice he was now giving them as they walked through the palace halls was rather more binding than the steward made it sound.

  Ahren was dazzled by the speed at which he was being smothered by instructions regarding etiquette, use of language and palace regulations. In all his young life he was never so happy to see a door which promised safety and quiet, when they finally stopped in front of the guest rooms. Almost fleeing, Ahren rushed into the room only to stop suddenly, frozen in shock. There had to be some mistake, for Ahren was undoubtedly in the wrong room. Although, the word room was surely a misnomer.

  Ahren was standing in a space, ten by ten paces, whose walls were made from dark wood and bright stone. Beautifully decorated pieces of furniture were tastefully positioned, and the high ceiling added to the sense of spaciousness. Bright sunlight shone through the crystal windows, and the bed was enormous beyond belief.

  He took another uncertain step into the room - and then his master whooshed past him, and with a deliberately relaxed face turned towards the steward and said, ‘this suits us perfectly, thank you’.

  The steward stepped back with a bow, then closed the door behind him, leaving the master and apprentice alone together for the first time in ages. If you ignored the pomp surrounding them, it was almost as if they were back in the cabin in the forest, thought Ahren. He smiled at his master.

  ‘It suits us perfectly? Are we going to be staying here?’ he asked in disbelief.

  ‘Us? No, of course not. This is my room. My servant sleeps over there’, said the old man matter-of-factly and pointed to his left.

  Ahren saw a little door and went up to it curiously. He opened it and looked into a tiny cell. A chair, a table, a narrow bed with a thin mattress and a tiny window filled the musty room.

  ‘I should have known’, he murmured and fell back into the straw mattress. From the next room he heard Falk laughing merrily.

  Chapter 8

  60 days to the winter solstice

  Ahren spent most of the rest of the day surrounded by liveried servants who made him feel as if he had just come out of a dark cave after decades of neglect. They looked after every aspect of his appearance with an unsettling attention to detail.

  He and his master both received a haircut and a shave, they were bathed thoroughly, their nails were cut and finally they were clothed. While Falk was given a dignified outfit in blue and silver, decorated with the Falkenstein crest, Ahren was given an earth-coloured linen garment which also had his master’s crest, but in form and style was more reminiscent of a brand mark. Annoyed, he fidgeted with the rough material, and his annoyance increased when the o
ld Forest Guardian laughed heartily at his discomfort.

  When they were finally alone again, Ahren felt like a completely alienated version of his former self.

  ‘Is all this really necessary?’ he grumbled crossly.

  ‘Are you seriously asking if you needed a bath?’ answered his master mischievously, and smiled at him.

  ‘Of course not. I mean, it’s nice being clean again but this clothing is so…impractical. And how I’m ever going to be able to untie a leather knot, I’ll never know’, complained Ahren.

  ‘Is this the same boy who was overjoyed to get clean leather clothing’, asked Falk, this time with an edge to his voice.

  Ahren wanted to respond but then thought better of it. His master was right. Without having noticed it himself, his sense of entitlement had grown, and now he felt ashamed. Then his linen garment chafed his skin, and he scowled again.

  ‘But the leather clothing was a decent fit. I’m going to be scraped raw in this’, he predicted gloomily.

  Falk slapped him on the back. ‘It won’t be for long. We’re only staying here for a few days until we’ve got the king out of his difficulties, and then we set sail for the Silver Cliff. You’ll just have to stick to the protocol until then’, said Falk sympathetically.

  They waited until early afternoon, during which time Falk examined and repaired his equipment. Ahren had half-expected that Dorian Falkenstein, the noble knight, would have ordered the army of servants to perform this work, but then he realised his assumption had been unfair. His master had drummed into him never to depend on anyone else when it came to your own equipment, and he followed this rule with iron discipline. Ahren had quickly understood the wisdom of this approach. If you examined everything yourself and made sure it was in good order, then you would know every quality, every knot, every weak point in the objects your life depended on when you were in the wilderness or out hunting. And so he followed his master’s example and when Uldini arrived in the early evening sunshine, he found the two of them sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by sewing kits, leather patches, weapon oil, and all the necessities essential for keeping their gear in tip-top shape.