Falk nodded his appreciation and encouragement, then he raised four fingers of his bow-holding hand.
Ahren wanted to protest that he wasn’t ready yet, but his master raised his bow and aimed at the target, bending his finger around the wood of his weapon.
Three.
Ahren quickly copied him and searched out the Swarm Claw on the left. He aimed directly at the animal with the tip of his arrow and saw his master curl a second finger around the bow.
Two.
Ahren breathed deeply and went down a little on his knee to find a secure stance, watching his master at the same time and correcting his own bow position as he did so. Another finger moved.
One.
One of the Swarm Claws looked curiously in their direction and suddenly became aware of the glittering metal on their arrow tips. Like an old friend who returns at just the right moment, the Void was back just for a heartbeat in Ahren’s reason. He took a deep breath, drew the arrow back until the bow was fully tensed.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a tiny movement as Falk lowered the last finger.
The apprentice ignored every doubt, suppressed any indecision and let his arrow fly in deadly unison with that of his master. The Void vanished. Doubt and fear came over Ahren, but it had already happened.
With an almost synchronous crunch, the arrows hit their targets and both Swarm Claws tumbled from the walls, making no sounds but the leathery rustle of wings.
Falk slapped his apprentice hard on the shoulder and grinned broadly, then indicated to him to crawl back to the rear of the group again. Ahren grinned at him then made his way almost too exuberantly to his place at the back. Trogadon gave him a congratulatory box on his upper arm, and even Khara gave a respectful curtsy. For a short time the young man was at one with himself and the world.
Hardly had they reached the outskirts of the city, when the evening encroached early and fast. Falk increased his pace, and Ahren was surprised at how different the Borderlands were to how he had imagined them. In the fading light he could make out woods, grassy hills and rocky highlands on the horizon. When he thought back to the tales that had done the rounds back in Deepstone, he’d imagined sulphur mines, muddy barrens and volcanoes. What he saw in front of him was so…well, normal.
Only the monumental pillar of smoke, five furlongs in width and stretching upwards into the heavens, shattered the illusion of normality.
Up until that point there had always been ruins in the way, but now he had an unhindered view of the prison in which his arch-enemy had led his existence for centuries, chained through a powerful magic to a sleep made of smoke and darkness, a sleep from which he was gradually awakening. A shiver ran down Ahren’s spine and when it became clear to him that Falk was walking directly towards the Pall Pillar he heaved a sigh of resignation.
Somehow it was fitting that his Place of Naming lay in the shadow of the Pall Pillar, just as everything else had that he had experienced over the previous months.
They marched on for a while after the onset of night until Falk found a deserted farmhouse which hadn’t completely collapsed or been burned down.
‘Must have belonged to a frontiersman who realised a few years ago that there are better places to live’, said the old Forest Guardian quietly.
‘Or somebody caught by the Pall Pillar’, said Uldini in a prophetic voice.
Falk gave him an angry look, but the Arch Wizard, as always, wasn’t going to be silenced. ‘What’s wrong? You know just as well as I do, that we’re far too close to the Pillar for anyone to spend their life here without eventually being called by HIM.’
Ahren began to shiver. The experiences on the ship seemed like only a moment ago, and the feeling of helplessness, when his spirit seemed no longer to be under his control, overwhelmed him again.
Jelninolan placed a comforting hand on his arm, and Falk stepped up to him.
‘I think it might be best if we continue from where we stopped yesterday, before our sensitive conjurer starts relating ghosts-stories as only he knows how.’
That night proved one of the most difficult in his short life. Falk asked him questions relentlessly and confronted him with his worst moments. The evening his father broke his hand. The moment Edrik refused to recognise Ahren’s right to an apprenticeship. The attack of the Swarm Claws, his duel in the forest with the Warden of the Weeping Valley, and the moment he first had to kill a man. Falk grilled him relentlessly and the Void collapsed on more than one occasion under the emotional pressure, leaving Ahren in tears until he managed to slip into the trance again. In the darkest hours of the night he had to remember being under the control of HIM, WHO FORCES and of the Grief Wind. And the men he had killed so quickly and ruthlessly in the ballroom of King’s Island.
At that point it almost became too much for the apprentice. In the weeks following that attack he had dreamed of them again and again, and of their surprised faces under their hoods. Ahren knew that he was only imagining things - he had never seen the faces of the attackers hidden under the dark material of their capes and from that distance. But their spirits had tormented him mercilessly.
Falk leaned back exhausted when Ahren began sobbing for the umpteenth time. The young man was incapable of continuing or of answering any more questions. The Void seemed a million paces away, and were his master to question him about any more memories, they would crash in on top of him unfiltered. He just wanted to crawl away into a corner. But Falk continued mercilessly.
But now the questions had changed, and also the memories which they evoked. Falk invited him to remember his first night as an apprentice, the first time he had had succeeded in getting to the top of the ribbon tree. The day he was presented with his bow, at the Autumn Festival in the company of his best friend Likis. He reminded Ahren of his first day in Eathinian and of the elf ceremony held in his honour after he had saved the Voice of the Forest. Falk spoke to him about Uldini’s jokes, Jelninolan’s goodness and Trogadon’s laughter. And to cap it all, just as the first rays of light transformed the snow into a glittering landscape, he talked about Culhen.
How Ahren had found him and fed him.
How he had defied his master in order to save the young wolf.
How with Selsena’s help he had broken the Adversary’s spell.
Finally Falk was silent and he released Ahren from the interrogation. But something had changed. The heavy clouds that had hung over the young Forest Guardian had lifted and it seemed as if Ahren was able to breathe easily for the first time in a long time.
Falk leaned down towards him and fixed his eyes with a steely look.
‘For moons now you’ve been concentrating on the bad things that have happened to you in your life, and that you may well have to face. But that is no way to go through life, and especially not when you have such a colossal task awaiting you. Believe in what you’re doing. If you want to save everybody, then try to do just that. We are going to be with you on your journey every step of the way. And maybe we won’t be able to save everybody in the end, but I’ll be damned if we’re not going to at least try.’
Falk stood up and presented Ahren his forearm. Ahren seized it in the warrior’s greeting and pulled himself up to his feet. An overwhelming gratitude towards his master, and a feeling of triumphant exhilaration had come over him and he smiled as he followed the old Forest Guardian.
They went over to the others and Falk said loudly, ‘right, let’s get going and name the Thirteenth Paladin’.
For Ahren the rest of the day was like a dream. His enforced confrontation with the events of his past life had been exhausting but also liberating. Falk, with his experience of centuries of self-criticism, brought him to the understanding that Ahren had been seeing things over the previous few months with too much darkness. He had been close to losing that part of his person that made up his innermost being: Ahren did not want to cause suffering and did not want to kill beings that could still perhaps be saved.
As they slowly
travelled through the Borderlands, he promised to himself that he would keep to this goal, even if it meant weighing up every battle and every skirmish scrupulously.
Once he had clarified this position for himself, he looked thoughtfully up at the Pall Pillar, which soared ubiquitously into the leaden skies suggesting the onset of rain.
Now that Ahren had found himself again, he felt the same serenity that he had experienced at the very beginning of their journey. Uldini had once said that it was the blessing of the gods that gave him the courage to take up the task so willingly. But Ahren knew there was a second reason as well, which no blessing could help: you had to know yourself, the manner in which you were going to perform your task.
Unknown to Ahren, Uldini and Jelninolan were watching him with a critical look.
‘I keep thinking Falk expects too much of him’, said the elf disapprovingly.
Uldini shrugged his shoulders serenely. ‘He’s the master, he’ll know what he’s doing.’
The Arch Wizard looked over at the old Forest Guardian, who was leading them through the wilderness of the Borderlands and was currently inspecting a ford they needed to cross.
‘And I think it’s helped him. Ahren had to figure out how he was going to fight this battle. You’re too soft, I’m too hard and Falk is too grumpy. My hope is that the young lad will absorb all of our best qualities and ignore the parts that keep us all bound to ourselves.’
Jelninolan looked over at the Arch Wizard in surprise.
‘I haven’t heard you being so philosophical and so self-critical in many centuries’, she teased.
The childlike figure pointed at the Pall Pillar, which looked from where they were standing like a massive black wall of cloud, and which blocked most of the heavens.
‘I’m standing here in the shadow of my greatest failure. There isn’t a day that passes when I don’t ask myself if I could have woven the spell ban more skilfully. So allow me my bit of humility and regret. It won’t last long anyway’, he said quietly.
Jelninolan gave him a hug.
‘You don’t have to carry all the responsibility yourself. I was there and so were the other Ancients and none of us came up with a better idea.’
She looked over at Ahren.
‘Once he’s been named, then the years of waiting and doubting will be over. Then we’ll be finished with treading water and we’ll be able to look forward instead and finally bring this war to an end.’
Uldini looked over at Ahren again.
‘I was eaves-dropping and I think I know what decision the boy will reach.’
Jelninolan smiled. ‘I’ve always known. He’ll choose the most difficult path of all. Either, while trying to do his best for everyone, he’ll fail disastrously in the attempt’, she took a deep breath and suppressed a shudder, ‘or he’ll become the greatest Paladin of all’.
They had spent the whole day marching onwards in a serpentine line.
Selsena had sensed Dark Ones at regular intervals and communicated the news to Falk so that he could lead the travellers past them unnoticed. Luckily, the land they were traversing was hilly and woody, which made it easier for the Forest Guardian to sneak the group past every danger.
Now they were crouched in a little copse waiting.
‘With the best will in the world, I really couldn’t tell you where we should go next. We’ve almost travelled nineteen miles from the pond we came out of’, said Falk for the fifth time.
Uldini shook his head angrily.
‘I thought the goblin was supposed to be helping us? Where is the wretch anyway? I can’t imagine that Ahren’s little boxing demonstration has freed him from his oath’.’
He looked questioningly over at Jelninolan, but she shook her head.
‘No, he’s still bound. The fact that he’s not making an appearance is all part of his little game. It also means, though, that we’ve been on the right track up until now.’
She thought for a moment and continued speaking.
‘I think we should rest here for a while. Our young aspirant here could certainly do with forty winks after last night, and we could all do with a little recovery time. I’ll dish out the last of our cold venison and then we’ll wait for the goblin to appear. Once time becomes tight, he’ll turn up and lead us.’
Uldini’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
‘The time is tight already. It’s not long until the eve of the winter solstice. And you seriously want us to sit around here?’
‘Have you got a better idea?’ said Falk, intervening. ‘Wandering aimlessly around the place only to have Tlik appearing and croaking to us that we should have gone the opposite direction is not going to help things. I agree. We should stay here.’
‘To wait and preserve your strength whenever you have the chance is something you learn quickly as a mercenary. The elf is right’, rumbled Trogadon cheerfully.
Then he leaned firmly against the trunk of a tree and went into torpidity.
Uldini was boiling with rage, but knew he had been outvoted.
‘Of course, we have no time left, so let’s all take a little nap’, he said sarcastically but took the piece of meat the priestess offered him anyway.
Ahren quickly downed his dinner and snuggled up under his blanket. The nervousness that had had kept him awake all day disappeared and now he wanted to enjoy every precious heartbeat. He closed his eyes and was asleep in an instant.
It was the smell of old fish that woke Ahren abruptly from his sleep, and when he opened his eyes he found himself staring into the lifeless eyes of a rotting trout. He threw off his blanket with a scream and had his hand on Windblade before he realised who it was that had awoken him.
The others spun around to face him and from behind he heard a bleating laugh.
‘Ha! You should have seen your face. It was wonderful! Now I think we’re really quits’. Tlik was now doubled over with laughter. His strange two-part voice sounded like fingernails scratching on slate.
Ahren’s heart was in his mouth, and the goblin’s laughter was giving him earache, but he still managed a pained smile and said as quietly as possible, ‘hello Tlik, we all missed you.’
The laughter stopped suddenly, and the goblin eyed him suspiciously.
‘What have they done to you? Where’s the fire, the scorn, the single-minded darkness that you need to perform your task?’
He looked at the others and pouted.
‘I’d built him up so beautifully and you destroy him.’
The creature theatrically covered his forehead with the back of his hand.
‘As if Jorath needs yet another do-gooder who fails at the end. What will happen the next time HE, WHO FORCES catches one of you Paladins. A Pall House? A Pall Fence?’
Disgusted, the goblin turned around and pointed reluctantly eastwards.
‘The place where the Naming must take place is five furlongs in this direction. You’ll recognise it when you see it. Have fun.’
Then he disappeared in a stinking cloud of smoke, which spread the smell of rotting fish and caused everyone present to start coughing and spluttering. Culhen yelped and placed one paw over his nose before sneezing loudly, and waves of displeasure from Selsena were felt by all.
‘What could the gods have been possibly thinking of when they let goblins loose on the world’, cursed Uldini as he wheezed.
‘We elves believe that they were drunk that time. Or they had colds. Or both’, added Jelninolan and she covered her nose with a cloth.
The others quickly followed her example, and then they gathered together their things and left the stinking copse.
Ahren only now noticed that the night had crept up on them and now, outside their leafy shelter, he could see a light snow falling steadily. There was no wind and the smell of new snow filled his nostrils and replaced the stench that Tlik had given them as his farewell present. The moon shone weakly through the cloud-cover and they wouldn’t have been able to see more than ten paces ahead were it
not for the thin blanket of snow reflecting the moonlight.
Falk looked over at a nearby mound which blocked their view in the easterly direction.
‘We should climb up it and maybe we can recognise something’, he said hopefully.
They crept up the rise as quietly as they could and then looked down on the surrounding countryside. The black of the night swallowed almost everything but Ahren believed he could make out a few faint outlines which were possibly rising up from the surrounding snow.
‘Could they be ruins in front?’ he whispered into Falk’s ear.
His master strained to see.
‘Their position and distance tally with what Tlik said. That could be it.’
He gestured to the others to follow, and they set off on their way. Once they had descended the mound again, Selsena gave a timid whinny and Falk stopped suddenly. His shoulders slumped and he looked miserable.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Jelninolan with a worried expression.
‘Selsena recognised the place’, said Falk and walked onwards.
The others followed with gloomy faces. Ahren had already been nervous enough, and Falk’s ominous overtone increased the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He stroked Culhen’s hair as he tried to calm himself and the wolf pressed his head against Ahren’s leg, as he always did when he sensed that his human friend needed comforting.
Slowly they approached their destination, and gradually the outlines of a ruined country house began to emerge. It had been almost completely destroyed, so that only the foundation walls remained, except for one wall, which was completely undamaged. As they crept along it, Ahren could make out weather-beaten mosaics and ornamentations in the wall which presented leaves, vines and the sign of the THREE.
‘Was this a temple once?’ he asked quietly.
‘No, they were only strong believers’, said Falk sadly. The way he said it, suggested he was referring to some people in particular.
‘Did you know the people of the house, master?’ asked Ahren, digging deeper. The house looked old enough to have been destroyed in the Dark Days and he was curious to find out who had lived here.
The Naming Page 39
