by Ravek Hunter
Qel strained to listen, and then he heard it. A song was being sung somewhere in the grove. It was a beautiful melody of such clarity and purity that he was moved by its perfection. There were words, words he could not understand, and the voice was alone, unaccompanied by instruments that would have ruined its transcendence. He listened as it grew closer and then diminished into the distance. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed when it was gone completely.
“What was that?” Havacian whispered, as if afraid to disturb the moment with the sound of his voice.
“It was a Druid,” replied Aelrindel. “They come here to sing to the trees, most frequently during the Quiet Week. We don’t know why, exactly, but it is said that their singing soothes the trees and eases their anxiety in preparation for the Gift of Apples.”
“Your land is full of wonders, Aelrindel,” Qel remarked with appreciation. And it truly was. When he and Havacian first decided to begin their journey of Discovery in Avalon, he was sure that they would find Avalon City full of wonders, and it was. But away from the city, there were many more unexpected curiosities that they had stumbled upon.
It took less than an hour to reach the far side of the grove. In a clearing dominated by a copse of maple trees, Aelrindel pointed out the expansive natural structure that formed the Grove House. The entire design was just like all the other buildings in Avalon except that it was restricted to the modest height of the giant maples. The trees in Avalon City that were many times the height of these. Without the comparison, it was a rather large structure, but having recently been in Avalon City, the Grove House had a very quaint appearance.
Strange that there was no one about, at least for Qel. He had only one thing to compare the Grove House to. If they were approaching the main house of the vineyards that his family owned, there would be dozens of people in sight by now.
“Has the entire household retreated before the Gift of Apples next week?” Qel looked around. Not even the apple stand was staffed, and not a soul strode the grounds.
Aelrindel furrowed his long dark brows in concern. “This is not usual at all. The last time I was here, there were scores of our people going about the business of the grove and household. Perhaps they are all inside for the evening meal, although it is early yet.”
The elf dismounted and tied his mount to a tree near the front of the house. Qel and Havacian followed suit before they approached the tangle of thick branches that served as the wide double doors of the main entry. Hesitantly, Aelrindel pushed the door inward. It did not resist, revealing a dark tunnel into the interior. The corridor was not narrow, and it was not low in height. In fact, it was just the opposite and would have been considered grand had there been any light globes in use to illuminate the mystery of the darkness. As it was, the light globes hung suspended, inanimate, and black as if somehow they burned from within.
Qel, almost without conscious effort, brought forth from his hand light that shone forth in an expanding cone that lit the direction forward. He was surprised how it appeared with a thought, requiring no concentration whatsoever. He was further surprised that Havacian, standing nearby, produced the same light seemingly as effortlessly. They would have to discuss this development later, but for now, Qel was nervous about the current state of their situation at hand.
“The entry should have a doorman and proper illumination.” Aelrindel spoke with concern coating his voice. “Something is wrong.” As if to emphasize the point, he drew from its scabbard the long, curved blade that he always wore at his side.
Qel had only seen him draw that sword one time before, and that was when they first met after they pulled little Tolia out of the river. The fact that he drew his blade now concerned him a great deal and heightened his presumption that something was indeed terribly wrong.
“Stay behind me,” Aelrindel ordered and moved ahead into the corridor. Qel exchanged a glance with Havacian, who shrugged with an ignorance as great as Qel’s own, and they hurried after the determined elf.
Qel had an eerie feeling about their trespass and hoped they would soon find someone who would contradict their fears that anything was wrong. Perhaps the unstaffed and dark entry was just an unfortunate neglect of protocol. Moving down the silent corridor, he noticed a stench in the still air that smelled of rot and death similar to that of a recently deceased animal.
“Do you smell that?” Havacian whispered to Qel.
“I do. This place is making me nervous. I can sense magic all around us, yet not from any specific source.”
Havacian nodded in agreement. “I noticed that as well. There must be someone here somewhere. How can a house such as this be so empty?”
Any further thoughts of neglectful stewards were shattered when they turned the first corner. Ahead, just within the forward edge of their light spells, lay a body, bloodied and battered on the pavers before them. Cautiously, Aelrindel led them forward for a closer look. When they were only a pace from the decaying remains, the head of the Elven corpse slowly turned toward them at an impossible angle and spoke as if from a faraway place, “Those who oppose me choose not to heed my words; those that will listen, hear me now.”
Qel froze. He took little comfort that Aelrindel and Havacian froze with him. What terrible thing had they encountered? This was supposed to be a distracting jaunt into the country to see the legendary apple groves of Avalon. Instead, they were faced with an animated corpse. How is this even possible?
“We heed your words, venerated spirit.” Aelrindel spoke to the corpse as if it were an elder or master. “Speak them to us to our benefit or peril.” What strange ceremony are we witnessing?
“Beware!” it spat from its bloody maw. “For the Old Haig dwells in this place.”
“The Old Haig!” Aelrindel repeated with repugnance.
“What is that?” Qel felt frantic. What monster are we faced with now?
“If the Old Haig is here, then we must proceed with caution.” Aelrindel cast his gaze down the hallway uncertainly. “She is a witch of unpredictable power from one of the lakes north of here. It should be impossible for her to have left the water to take over the household of the grove. There is more going on here than we can know.”
“What do we do now?” Havacian looked as if he might bolt back through the door.
“We proceed.” Already Aelrindel was walking down the corridor, leaving the now still and inanimate corpse where it lay. “I have a duty to dispatch this creature before it can escape.”
Qel was impressed with their Elven friend. “We will follow and assist in any way that we can.”
The look on Havacian’s face was far from reassuring, but Qel knew he could not leave Aelrindel to face the thing alone. Quickly he caught up to the elf, with Havacian only a step behind.
They followed Aelrindel cautiously through the long corridor until they reached the first turn. He noticed that the floor had become wet as if flooded. At first the issue presented as wet pavers that glistened in their conjured light; then the water came as high as his ankles, and it smelled like rotting vegetation. The sloshing caused by their forward progress made it impossible to walk quietly, and anything up ahead would know of their approach. Qel deftly transferred the light from his hand to a light globe he produced from within his robes. He might need both his hands if things suddenly took a turn for the worst. Havacian knowingly followed suit.
“What should we expect from this Old Haig? Is there something we can do to prepare in case it is still here?” Qel was glad he was wearing his riding boots to keep out the wet, but the cold water relentlessly numbed his toes as he walked.
Aelrindel stopped and turned to face them. “You are right, young wizard; we need to discuss what we are walking into.” Qel was not sure, but he thought he caught a slight reddening on the elf’s cheeks from embarrassment. Perhaps he realized the folly of their hasty charge.
“An Old Haig is the spirit of a corrupted female elf. She haunts the shores of rivers or lakes in Avalon searching fo
r vulnerable souls, living and pure . . . to consume.” In the dim light of the corridor, Aelrindel’s features appeared gaunt and haunted, like the creature he was describing. “The souls she takes do nothing to improve her corruption, yet she takes them still, believing in her insanity that if she takes enough of them, she will eventually become innocent and pure herself—as she was once before.”
“How was she corrupted in the first place?” Havacian had the look of intense curiosity that Qel knew so well, and it momentarily replaced the Water Wizard’s fear.
“It is not known, exactly.” Aelrindel shook his head in sadness. “We know only that they were once powerful sorceresses that grew too ambitious and sought to use their power to pervert nature to their advantage and to feed their adulterated appetites. Our goddess, Niamh, looked upon what they had become and what they created and considered it blasphemy. In her own name, she invoked a curse upon them and any elf that would use the power from her to desecrate nature. We call it Niamh’s Curse.”
“Are there no Elven men who have been so ambitious? Has it always been only the women?” Qel would have laughed if he wasn’t so terrified. His friend must have momentarily forgotten where they were and what they were about to do, allowing his curiosity to overwhelm him.
“Of course there are. They are known as Troglodytes. This isn’t a story from the distant past. Every few years we hear of one of our people becoming struck with the curse.” Aelrindel seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Especially recently.”
Qel was cold, and he knew he wasn’t the only one, as evidenced by his companions’ violent shivers. They needed to get moving and finish whatever they were going to do before they froze to death standing in the cold water. “What is her power, and how can we defeat her?”
As if waking from a dream, Aelrindel stared at him blankly for a moment. “She will still be powerful with her magic, although it will not work for her in ways she, or we, would expect.” The haunted look the elf had before was replaced with determination and anger. “She may also have the ability to call upon profane creatures if she is strong enough. Apart from that, I’m not sure what to expect. I hope you boys are up to it.”
Qel’s teeth were beginning to chatter, and the constant shivering was becoming more than a minor distraction. “Havacian, can you do something about the temperature of this water?”
Havacian threw up his hands. “Of course I can. Why didn’t I think of that?” He spoke a few words and placed his palms on the water. Almost immediately the water warmed until Qel no longer shivered. “The water around me will stay tolerable as long as you are within a span or two.”
“Thank you, Havacian. This Old Haig apparently likes water, so prepare yourself as best you can.” Qel gripped his friend’s shoulder tightly. “We may need your best tricks.”
Aelrindel drew his narrow, curved sword once more and turned back toward the corridor ahead. “Let’s be done with this, then.”
“Where is all of this water coming from?” Qel wondered aloud. The water was no longer cold, thanks to Havacian, but soon it was higher than his boots, and his feet were soggy. Worse, the stink of rotten vegetation increased dramatically and was nearly unbearable.
“The corrupted ones are bound by Niamh to haunt the darkest bogs of lakes and rivers, making it impossible for them to travel over clean water or land.” Aelrindel glanced back at Qel with a shrug. “Somehow she has managed to bring it with her.” He pointed to the foliage that was part of the construction of the house. “See where the water touches the healthy branches and vines? Her dark magic accelerates its decomposition.”
The corridor wound and curved through the first level of the Grove House. Often they passed natural stairways leading up and branch-formed doors, which Aelrindel passed with little hesitation. He was clearly following the path of knee-high water that slowly flowed from wherever their destination was ahead. Then, from around another bend in the corridor, Qel could make out the glow of green light from something beyond. Aelrindel saw it too and motioned for them to darken the light globes they carried.
Stowing his light globe securely in a pocket, Qel, followed by Havacian, crept up with Aelrindel toward the corner that separated them from the origin of the green luminescence. They all moved slowly, trying not to disturb the water more than necessary and when they arrived at the bend Aelrindel cautiously peeked beyond. The elf stiffened, giving Qel a second of warning before he looked around himself.
The hair on Qel’s arms rose, and his heart thumped so hard it made his head pound. What he saw there was more terrifying than anything he had ever experienced, even counting the Troll and Ogres he had encountered since he had come to Avalon.
The vast, high-ceilinged room was bathed in a green glow that radiated from hundreds, no thousands, of sickly branches covered with rotting vines and slimy leaves that coated the interior walls of the room. Even below the surface of the water, Qel could glimpse the glow through the stinking and nauseating murky broth they would be forced to wade through if they entered. If this were all that the room contained, it would still be a fearsome place to tread, but that was not all. Movement caught his eye among the wasting branches draping the ceiling, slow and deliberate, and once his vision adjusted fully, he could see many more that did not move at all. They were black and spindly, with hair covering their bodies and multiple red-glowing eyes that peered from the depths of dark sockets. They were spiders of a sort he did not know. Qel had never seen spiders of that size; easily the thickness and width of a man’s chest with long legs that made them appear much larger. His frozen brain managed to count nine of the creatures, unless there were more somewhere unseen, but even one would have sent him running in panic under normal circumstances. These were not normal circumstances. He would be expected to help expel them from the Grove House if Aelrindel decided that’s what they would do.
Then he remembered that they had not come here for spiders. Qel’s eyes desperately searched the room. The Old Haig had to be here, didn’t she? There were no other exits that he could see other than the rippling of water in the center of the room that indicated the source of the putrid water, as if it came from some corrupt spring. Something was tugging at the back of his cloak, breaking his concentration. He slowly turned his head away from the frightening scene to find Havacian’s hand holding a piece of the fabric in a tightly clenched fist, but rather than tugging to get his attention, as Qel thought, his hand was violently shaking. Standing very close, his friend’s eyes were glued to the room just as Qel’s own were a moment before.
He drew Havacian back around the corner a few paces. “Are you OK?” Qel’s whisper was almost inaudible.
Havacian’s eyes were wide like oval saucers before he closed them and took his hand from Qel’s cloak. It took a moment, but when he opened his eyes again, he had calmed measurably. “I am now. Are we really going in there?”
“Yes.” Both he and Havacian practically jumped clear of the water at the hiss from behind them. Aelrindel had silently joined them. “I will handle the spiders while the two of you dispatch the Old Haig.”
“Is she there? I could not see her anywhere in there.” Qel had excellent eyesight and could not believe he overlooked her.
“She is there.” Aelrindel removed the bow from across his back and was drying the reverse-twisted bowstring with a linen cloth. “Straight ahead, near the opposite wall. Her eyes are closed. Perhaps she is asleep.”
Qel moved back to the corner, careful not to make any noise, and peered around its edge. The back wall of the room looked like the rest of it—just a mass of rotting branches and foliage. Where is she? He looked closer; there was something odd about the shadows there. He found a vertical line that seemed out of place, then a curve. He almost gasped aloud at how perfectly camouflaged she was. Her “dress” was actually formed of the same branches and leaves that extended around the room; her arms, flush next to her body, were colored green with brown textures; and her haggard face blended perfectly with the
pattern of wilting leaves. Aelrindel was right. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be asleep. If they were lucky, maybe they could slip in quietly and . . . the Old Haig’s eyes popped open. Her bloodred orbs stared out from the tangle that shaped her grotesquely misshapen face, and a chill ran down Qel’s spine. She was looking directly at him.
Qel slowly rotated his body, breaking the gaze he held with the monster, and stood with his back against the wall. He realized with a start that he was breathing rapidly. “She knows we are here.”
Aelrindel didn’t seem surprised. “Then we must go, now.”
Qel heard Havacian let out a sigh of relief and, in truth, he felt relieved as well until Aelrindel waded around the corner, bow drawn and ready. Reality crashed down on Qel as he realized the elf had meant go forward, and almost without willing it, he followed.
Everything felt like slow motion. Qel saw Aelrindel wade into the bog, loosing arrow after arrow in quick succession. He was sure it must have been at an incredible speed if time was passing at a normal rate for him. Looking ahead, the Old Haig’s eyes were glowing bright crimson, and her arms were moving in strange patterns. Then the water around his boots suddenly lost its depth, and a thick wall of water formed in front of him, blocking his view of the witch. At first he thought he might be drowned in it. Instead, it moved away from him and slowly crashed over the Old Haig. She screamed. A long, visceral scream, which went on and on. It was deafening along with the frequent thwang of Aelrindel’s vibrating bowstring. To Qel’s right, there was movement. He looked over just in time to see one of the giant, black spiders launching itself toward him. Instinctively, he thought to catch it. Then the rational side of his brain kicked in, and he knew that if he did, it would kill him. He raised his arm to knock it away, fend it off, something. Arm straight out, palm toward it, he almost had the thing on top of him. So slow. Then there was heat, incredible heat that rushed through his arm from somewhere inside of him, and it did not cause him pain. It sprang fluidly from his open palm and exploded on the falling spider, the force of it sending the flaming creature away from him to land sizzling in a tight ball in the fetid water. Time returned in a rush.
