The Naming

by Torsten Weitze

  Khara looked spellbound at the flame, which was now racing through the remaining symbols and was bearing down on the girl in shortening circles. The fear was back in her face, and as the two paces high flame extinguished the last symbols he saw her body tense up. She would jump up at any moment! With an elegant leap he jumped past the flame and landed just behind the girl as she was beginning to stand. He threw his arms around her upper-body, the flames engulfed the girl and she screamed out in fear and tried to break free. Ahren knew what damage she could do in hand to hand combat so he lifted her into the air for a heartbeat and then let go.

  Khara was now completely surrounded by flames and as she threw herself to the left, still screaming, the magic fire stuck to her and flared into a ball. It seemed to creep under her skin where it blazed from within for a moment. And then it was gone.

  The light had vanished in an instant, leaving behind a sobbing girl lying on a humdrum training ground. Ahren bent over her to calm her but she grasped his wrist, twisted it forcefully, threw him into the air, and he landed with his nose in the dirt.

  Jelninolan gave a tired laugh and called out hoarsely, ‘well done, Ahren. It may take her a while to understand that you helped her, but I, at least, thank you.’

  The young Forest Guardian spat the dirt out of his mouth and gave Khara an accusatory look, but she ignored him and looked, spellbound, at her exposed forearms. Ahren could see that the blue flame hadn’t quite gone out, but was running along the web of scar lines, extinguishing all visible and invisible injuries in the same way that the fire had obliterated the lines in the sand. Left behind was bright, perfect skin, that looked as smooth and untouched as the ground on which she was lying.

  Ahren stood up, and a weary Jelninolan walked towards him. When she saw his baffled face, she pointed to the training ground and then at Khara’s arm.

  ‘This is how Elfish magic works best. We create a mirror of what we are trying to achieve. A rugged, scarred field that smoothes itself. First on the ground. Then on her skin.’

  The girl was weeping with joy, and she tried to have a look at her back by taking off her clothing. Ahren blushed a deep red and turned away while Jelninolan knelt beside Khara and held her up. She was talking insistently to the girl, and Khara threw herself down at the feet of the elf and stuttered a ritualised phrase through her tears.

  ‘Oh dear’ said Jelninolan and frowned. She shook her head sadly. ‘I never thought of that’.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Ahren curiously and turned back to them.

  ‘Khara has just sworn me service until her guilt has been atoned for. In my hurry, I’d forgotten to offer her healing as a present’, she said, looking down at the figure, who was still kneeling with her head on the ground.

  ‘What’s the problem? Give it to her as a present now’, said Ahren with a shrug of his shoulders.

  ‘It’s not that simple. A present has to be announced. Explaining something afterwards as a present is a deadly insult. Because you’re insinuating that that the person who has received the object or service can’t pay for it. I would be dishonouring her’, the priestess explained patiently.

  Ahren still couldn’t see the problem.

  ‘So? She’ll get over it.’

  Jelninolan looked at him, her eyebrows raised.

  ‘She was a slave for almost her whole life. Then a beggar, then a thief. The one thing that the girl possesses at the moment is her sense of honour, and her service to me. And I’m supposed to take both those things from her?’

  Ahren’s head was spinning and he decided to give up. The place where Khara came from seemed terribly complicated and unbelievably cruel. He really hoped he would never have to set foot inside the Eternal Kingdom.

  ‘Do you still need me?’ he asked finally. ‘I should really carry on practising before Falk catches me dawdling’.

  ‘No. Off you go’, said Jelninolan absently, and pulled the still-crying girl up to her feet. ‘I’ll calm Khara down and figure out how to proceed with her’.

  Ahren left the two of them on their own and wondered how Uldini would react when he found out that the ex-slave was a now a fixed part of their group and bound to Jelninolan through an oath of service.

  The sun cast the shooting range in a golden light, and Ahren looked with satisfaction over at the stuffed mannequins that he had peppered with arrows without missing once.

  After the morning’s sound thrashing, his pride had been in urgent need of some success, and so he had retired to the shooting range and engaged in some shooting practice. Culhen stayed with him and offered him companionship. The approving looks of the palace guards, who were training with their crossbows, had done him good. Ahren was calm and relaxed again at last, a condition that had been painfully missing over the previous few days. He had been tossed about like a ball by the many new experiences and turbulent events. But now all was well again.

  Ahren had understood what he had done wrong in the alleyway, and the realisation was painful. Had he reached for his bow, he would have shot two of the scoundrels in the leg before they’d even have noticed. Instead of which, he had made the fatal decision to depend on Windblade because he had overestimated his ability as a swordsman.

  At least everything had worked out well. Khara had been saved and even her scars had been healed, and Ahren was closer to his master than ever before.

  He silently thanked the THREE for his luck and noticed that this was the first time he had ever expressed his gratitude to the beings that had singled him out with their blessing. He glanced over at the cathedral and wondered if he should visit the house of the gods when he heard a sound behind him.

  He turned around, and there was Khara, half a pace behind him.

  He started and recoiled, and she frowned and pointed at him.

  ‘Susekan hear bad’, she said haltingly. Then she smugly laid her hand on Windblade, which she had hung around her. ‘Susekan fight very bad’ she goaded.

  Ahren bit his tongue in an effort to avoid giving a foul-mouthed response. Then, as coolly as possible, he lifted his bow and shot without any effort an arrow into the head of the furthest mannequin.

  ‘I’m more of an archer, really’, he said, a little too light-heartedly.

  Khara ignored his tone and gave a slight bow.

  ‘Susekan coward too. Hide behind bow’, she said.

  Ahren was ready to explode and was on the point of uttering a string of expletives when he noticed a giveaway twitch of her exotic eye. The girl was making fun of him quite brilliantly and he had nearly fallen into her trap. He laughed in embarrassment and she laughed too, a sparkling laugh that Ahren found quite charming.

  Then Jelninolan’s self-proclaimed servant became serious again.

  ‘Mistress said, give back to you’, she said. And she took Windblade from her back and held it out to Ahren.

  The young man quickly took it, happy to be its owner again. He wanted to thank her, but Khara was quicker.

  ‘Bad sword. Head too heavy. Blade too wide. Bad weapon suit bad fighter.’ Then she bowed slightly and went away, leaving a furious apprentice in her wake, who spent the rest of the day taking out his frustrations on innocent mannequins. And while he was peppering them with arrows, he kept imagining them in the form of a certain girl he knew.

  Chapter 11

  55 days to the winter solstice

  The following three days flew by in no time. Ahren trained diligently under Falk’s eagle eyes and honed and refined his archery skills. Uldini and the king co-ordinated the suppression of the Illuminated Path and, despite some moaning and groaning, it wasn’t long before the Arch Wizard had come to terms with the fact that Khara would accompany them for the foreseeable future. Ahren hardly ever saw her because the elf spent every waking minute drumming the basics of the Northern language into the girl.

  The evening of the celebratory feast in honour of Falk and Ahren was now upon them. Preparations were in full swing and attendants were rushing hither and thither car
rying out the many essential tasks such a feast required.

  Ahren had just bathed himself thoroughly. Falk had insisted that his apprentice should appear in the best possible light that evening. He climbed out of the wooden tub, rubbed himself dry and walked towards his own little cell. There was a bundle on his bed with a folded-over piece of parchment with his name on it, written in his master’s handwriting. Curious, he opened it up and read its contents.

  Ahren,

  Falk, Jelninolan and Selsena wish you a belated, happy Autumn Festival.

  And don’t dawdle! The guests of honour are expected at the second pealing of the clock.

  Excited, Ahren opened up the bundle and saw an elaborately embroidered costume, decorated with the Falkenstein coat-of-arms on its chest. The material was of a much higher quality than the brown linen jerkin he had been given on their arrival. The evening was promising to be less uncomfortable and itchy than he had expected.

  Delighted, he lifted up the clothing and gasped. He could now see two more things that had been hidden by the costume. A strange white cord which he couldn’t figure out, and a material with a telling shimmer. Ahren put the feast day clothing aside and picked up the dark green material, shouted out in joy and hopped from one foot to the other in excitement. Jelninolan had made him a set of Elvin undergarments.

  Humming happily, he slipped into the undergarments and asked himself why the bards never sang of the hard and uncomfortable life on the road when you had poor quality undergarments. He ran over the soft and smooth material with his hand and was convinced he had never been as happy at this in his life. No abrasive armour anymore! No more blisters or abrasions in the worst possible places after hours in the saddle! Ahren decided he would guard these clothes with his life, and quickly got dressed.

  The garments fitted him to a tee. He moved his shoulders around contentedly and tested his freedom of movement. He took up the white cord with a frown of consternation and examined it critically. He really couldn’t make head or tail of it and was about to put it down on his bed when he noticed two little loops, one at either end. Then it dawned on him.

  It was a bowstring – but the material was unfamiliar to him. He held the string in front of his face, felt it with his fingers and saw a silver shimmer reflected by the light. He recognised the colour, and the fact that it was made from twisted hairs and then the penny dropped. Selsena’s mane shimmered in exactly the same way. Ahren was certain that the bowstring was made from the mane of the Titejunanwa.

  He lay down on the bed and considered the present. He had never heard of this before and neither Falk’s nor Jelninolan’s bow had a similar string.

  Full of curiosity, he took his bow from a corner of the room and fixed the new string. He checked the tension and to his surprise he groaned with effort. It was considerably stronger and Ahren was not sure if, or how often, he could draw the bow fully before his arm would grow tired. But there was no doubt it was a priceless gift, and he decided to thank Selsena as soon as possible.

  Falk had been very specific in his instructions that morning, so Ahren buckled on Windblade, hung the bow over his shoulder and left the tiny room.

  ‘The people want to see a hero’, he had said. ‘So, enter with your weapons and deposit your bow at the entrance after everyone has seen you in full armour. And be vague when you’re telling stories. Nobody wants to hear that the king’s life was saved by a greenhorn.’

  He left their quarters and immediately met Jelninolan outside. She was wearing the same clothes she had on the first evening of their stay in the capital. Ahren threw his arms around her.

  ‘Thank you for the wonderful present, Jelninolan. I can’t tell you how happy I am’, he said excitedly.

  She smiled warmly in return.

  ‘You’re welcome, Ahren. These undergarments always attract the highest prices among human merchants, no matter how many we produce. The traders invariably take everything with them when they leave Evergreen and keep the first set for themselves.’ They both laughed and the elf linked arms with him. ‘Let’s wander through the park while we wait for the bell’, she suggested. ‘It would be very rude to appear too early. We don’t want to spoil your big entrance.’

  Ahren nodded and they stepped out and headed for the perfectly laid out green lawns, where Culhen loved to play, much to the gardeners’ consternation.

  The weather was getting gradually cooler and the first hint of winter was in the air. The sky was still clear, and the sun had some strength, but during the evenings now the temperature dropped noticeably. Ahren looked forward to the winter for some reason, and he hoped that after his first journey in the dark season he would still feel the same way.

  ‘Where are the others?’ he asked casually, more for something to say than out of genuine interest.

  ‘Uldini is spinning a few court intrigues in order to reduce the damage Elgin’s unwitting complicity caused, and Falk is probably hiding somewhere and sprucing himself up .’

  Ahren almost stumbled with shock and gave Jelninolan a sceptical look.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ he blurted. ‘Pardon?’

  She smiled indulgently and tapped a finger on Ahren’s nose.

  ‘Your master has a dramatic streak, which tends to come to the fore when he’s on King’s Island. Also, this is his first official appearance in over seven hundred years. The old curmudgeon will pull out all the stops to remind people that the Paladins are still watching over them.’ She frowned. ‘At least, some of them.’

  Ahren was now really looking forward to the feast, and wondered what Falk could possibly have planned. Jelninolan went on.

  ‘Khara will stay in my rooms. She only has the rank of a servant and isn’t allowed to come with us. Anyway, I want to keep her away from crowds until she has become more used to the Northern Kingdom. Otherwise it could quickly lead to misunderstandings.’

  Ahren could imagine Khara giving a nobleman a bloody nose or hurling an aristocratic lady into the midst of the banquet because she’d misunderstood a remark. He knew exactly where the elf was coming from.

  ‘But she seemed very happy with the condition. When I left her, she was busying herself with her Autumn Day present.’

  ‘You made her a present too?’ asked Ahren a little sharply. He knew he shouldn’t be jealous, but couldn’t help feeling a little tinge of envy.

  ‘We were at the weaponry market today and bought her a half-decent Windblade. Wherever we’re going to be going there will be danger, and she needs to be able to defend herself. Anyway, it would be a crying shame if she weren’t able to practise, with her talent’, she responded, smiling.

  Now Ahren was truly jealous and remained silent while he tried to swallow his injured pride.

  They wandered on through the park until they heard the first peal of the bell.

  ‘Ah, the first bell. Can you accompany me to the entrance? All of the invited guests are supposed to go in now, so the herald has enough time to introduce everyone.’

  Ahren began walking quickly and he couldn’t stop grinning, Jelninolan put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Steady on! We have time. The more important you are, the later you go in. That way most people get to hear the herald’s presentation. There’s a fixed order, you know’, she explained.

  Ahren rolled his eyes.

  ‘I’ll be happy when we’re gone from here. The rules of nature are a lot simpler and more sensible.’

  Jelninolan laughed and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  ‘Dear Ahren. Hopefully, you’ll never change’, she said affectionately, and for a brief moment the motherly Jelninolan he had got to know in Evergreen was back.

  A large cluster of people had gathered at the palace entrance, where they were standing in little groups, laughing, talking, whispering or arguing.

  Uldini couldn’t be missed – once again he was floating half a pace above the ground so that he could speak at eye level with the others. The Arch Wizard had decided on little green flashes, wh
ich darted down from his hanging feet and danced over the ground at irregular intervals.

  Ahren noticed with amusement that the colourful discharges perfectly matched Jelninolan’s dress and he saw once again how much of a routine they had developed in their long lives and how they were able to use it playfully and elegantly in moments like this.

  Uldini floated over to them and embraced Jelninolan ostentatiously.

  ‘Darling, you look wonderful this evening’, he said in an unusually soft voice. ‘You wait here for your master until your grand entrance’, he whispered to Ahren and wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully.

  The young man nodded, and the two Ancients disappeared into the crowd, where Uldini greeted a baroness in a gushing manner.

  Directly in front of the palace Ahren could see a small line of people, for the most part in pairs, waiting patiently until they would be waved into the ballroom by the steward. Occasionally, Ahren could hear a loud voice speaking and calling out titles, and he assumed this had to be the herald, announcing the guests.

  He looked around him, but there was no sign of Falk, and so he stood there, a little on his own, and studied at the people around him.

  The clothing and jewellery was even more extravagant than he had seen on his first entering the court, and Ahren asked himself how some of the older ladies were able to stand upright at all under the weight of all the gold and gemstones around their necks.

  To the left of the guests and a little apart seemed to be their attendants. Ahren felt ill-at-ease among all the pomp and so he went near the liveried group and heard some of their conversation.

  ‘Have you heard that there’s supposed to be a Paladin here today. They say Dorian Falkenstein has returned to court’, said a lady-in-waiting excitedly. ‘Imagine all the things he must have done since he left.’

  ‘I heard that he was fighting Dark Ones in the Borderlands. That’s why there are so few’, said someone else, whom Ahren couldn’t see.

  ‘Nonsense. My lord says he was living the high life in the Southern lands. If you know what I mean...’ said another attendant with a lewd grin.