by I K Spencer
Remembered his training, Anthen abruptly pushed the doubt away and chastised himself for allowing despair to cloud his thinking. He knew such thoughts only weakened his spirit further. It did not matter whether he was a sacrificial pawn or not; as a guardsman his duty and mission were clear. He must focus on that and forget everything else. Though the strong sense of his own imminent death remained, with his depression subdued the guardsman succumbed to sleep.
He rose shortly before dawn and was ready to leave by first light. Kyreial brought food as before, then they pushed through the thick boughs. Outside, Anthen was surprised to find fluffy snow halfway to his knee and noted the air felt sharply colder than inside the cozy shelter. The cold immediately penetrated his leather boots and the guardsman wished for more suitable footwear for a trek through this high country.
He was concerned that the snow would slow their progress but by midmorning they dropped into a pass and left the snow behind, though he guessed the reprieve would be short-lived. The rest of the day's travel mirrored that of the previous afternoon, steep climbs and descents with occasional passes to give them a brief respite. The valleys were crisp but comfortable while the cold summits chilled him to the bone. The sky remained overcast all day and it felt like it might snow or rain but Anthen saw only a few flurries on the ridges.
Again, with full darkness nearly upon them, the sprite abruptly called a halt and led Anthen through thick brush to the night's shelter. This time it was a cave, again stocked with cured firewood. The elf again asked for coffee and returned with food for them all. He guessed that Kyreial was obtaining the food from nearby stores, though some of the items appeared fresh. As he lay, snug in his bedroll, he wondered what this part of the journey would have been like without his reluctant guide. He knew he could have made the trip without Kyreial's help but it would have been much more difficult and time consuming.
Low, thick cloud cover and steady snow greeted them the next morning. Visibility was very limited but the elf did not slow, evidently knowing this rugged land quite well. During the afternoon, they wound their way up a vast mountainside into a freshening wind. Anthen wrapped his cloak tightly against the icy gusts that drove the snowflakes painfully against his exposed face.
The storm was worse at the top and they struggled through swirling snow and deep drifts. Anthen dismounted and led Rorc, following the elf, who seemed to effortlessly move through the heavy wind and deep snow. The guardsman had never been so cold; his fingers and nose were starting to go numb and his feet felt even colder still.
The elf seemed to know his companion's limits and brought them to a shelter shortly after crossing the summit, though at least an hour of daylight remained. This haven was formed by a cluster of interlocking evergreens and Anthen could barely hear the howling wind once inside. After their ritual silent meal and coffee, the spent guardsman thawed out his frozen hands and feet, then fell asleep immediately.
In the morning the howling winds had disappeared and when Anthen stepped from the snug shelter, he was greeted by a cloudless blue sky. After the thick canopy of the Valhaan forest and continuous cloud cover, it lifted his spirit a little to see blue skies once again. As the pair started to descend from the summit and emerged from a grove of trees to cross a rocky overhang, Anthen gasped at the sight that awaited him. He knew immediately that he was looking at Baenkeep.
The great mountain dwarfed the rest of the range. They were standing near the summit of one of the higher peaks yet the mythical mountain loomed far above, as though he gazed up at a lone mountain surrounded by low plains. The great peak seemed to sit on the shoulders of the sizable mountains that encircled it—like a high centerpiece in a great crown. The portion he could see was nearly all above the tree line and the white shown brilliantly in the early morning sun while the lesser mountains remained in shadow. It was a humbling experience for the guardsman to see the natural wonder.
"It is extremely rare to behold the entire summit." The elf seemed surprised, which probably accounted for why he bothered to speak to Anthen when not absolutely necessary. "The top is almost always enshrouded in clouds."
"We are fortunate then. Perhaps it is a good omen."
"Or a bad one," Kyreial answered softly.
"Has anyone scaled it?" To Anthen's knowledge, the great peak had never been climbed, but he was beginning to realize just how much he did not know. Perhaps the sprite knew another way besides the labyrinth.
"Nay. It is the perfect fortress."
"Not quite perfect," Anthen replied sadly, "or you and I would not be here."
"True enough," agreed Kyreial. "Your comrade's quest would be folly, though, had he thought to ascend the deadly peak's surface."
"He is not my comrade," Anthen snapped with an edge to his voice that he immediately regretted.
Kyreial did not reply but his look suggested to Anthen that the emotional retort demonstrated his kind's ill manners. The elf turned on his heel and resumed their descent. Anthen followed, cursing himself for causing his aloof guide to withdraw.
"How much further?" the guardsman queried as they left the opening and were swallowed by dense woods once again.
"Two, perhaps three days travel depending on the weather," the elf replied without looking back.
The morning remained clear. They traveled down from the summit, then crossed a heavily wooded valley. By mid-morning they were on the rise once again, aiming for the next summit. As they climbed higher, the temperature dropped and the wind strengthened. By mid-afternoon, the travelers climbed above the tree line and Anthen knew there would be no pass to allow them to bypass the icy summit.
Near the top, they were surprised by a sudden squall and in a matter of minutes, visibility dropped to no more than fifty paces. Anthen dismounted and leaned against the driving wind, keeping close to the hooded form of Kyreial a few paces ahead.
All at once, the elf was gone! The guardsman had glanced away to their left just for a second and when his gaze returned forward, he saw nothing but white. He ran forward a few steps, fearing he had fallen behind, but the elf was not there. He called out but could barely hear himself and only the howling wind replied. He thought the elf must have fallen, then he noticed that Rorc had become quite agitated.
He looked around and saw the source of his mount's tension. Three wolves were racing down at them from their right. He started to reach for the crossbow strapped on his back but the beasts were nearly upon them and there was not time. Instead, he whipped the small handbow from his cloak and shot the leader clean. His second arrow, though, caught the next wolf's shoulder and it leapt at him before he could draw his sword. He grabbed the wolf's head before the snapping jaws found his throat.
The animal's eyes held a strange light and its breath smelled repellent; these were not normal timber wolves. He felt the third wolf near his left foot and he kicked it hard. That gave him a few seconds but he desperately needed a free hand. Just when the wolf on top of him opened its snarling jaws wide again he thrust his left forearm in the animal's mouth as hard as he could. The powerful jaws closed painfully on his forearm but his arm was too far back for the sharp, cutting teeth. The wolf quickly realized the lack of effect and moved to remedy the situation but it was too late; the guardsman's dagger had already slit its throat. Anthen rolled away and leapt to his feet and, in a matter of moments, the final wolf received the same fate.
Anthen ran in a tight circle, searching frantically for Kyreial in the blinding snow. Finally, he spied the elf down a gully to the right. Kyreial was on his back in a near identical situation to his own moments ago. He held one wolf's snapping jaws at bay while a second wolf tore at one of his arms. Without hesitation, Anthen whipped the crossbow from his back and took aim. Given the conditions, any shot from this distance would be risky but he had no time to move closer. He aimed for the wolf tearing at the elf's arm first; it was closer and moving less. The quarrel hit the wolf beneath the ribs. It yelped, ran a few steps, then fell.
He took more time with the second target. The wolf's jaws were inches from Kyreial's throat and the pair rolled back and forth as each struggled to gain advantage. He waited a few seconds for a fatal shot opportunity but the pair moved about too much. Instead, he shot at the animal's hindquarters. The arrow found its mark but the animal, the alpha male by his size and strength, did not even flinch and appeared to be getting closer to Kyreial's throat.
Anthen shot a second bolt at the exposed side of the wolf but the struggling pair shifted at the last instant and the projectile only grazed the beast's back. He could see Kyreial was weakening fast so took aim for a headshot with his final arrow. He waited for a clear shot, seconds feeling like hours, but none came.
Finally, the elf lost his grip and the snapping jaws thrust suddenly forward. Kyreial's head darted back and the powerful jaws closed on his shoulder. Out of time, Anthen shifted to the animal's side and fired his final quarrel. He dropped the empty bow and started to run down the slope. The last shot hit full, just behind the foreleg.
He watched in horror as the wolf continued to attack the elf, edging closer to Kyreial's throat. The last shot had to have been fatal; how could the beast continue? He raced forward, stumbling down the steep slope.
Finally, the wolf, completely black in color, released the battered elf's shoulder. It lifted its bloody jaws to the sky and howled, then slumped forward, apparently dead at last. Anthen threw the carcass aside and knelt beside the still figure. Kyreial's shoulder was bitten badly and bleeding steadily but when he pushed down to stop the bleeding, the elf waved him away, whispering that it was not serious.
"This dark lord seems to have many resources," Kyreial commented, groaning with pain as Anthen helped the elf to his feet.
"This is Cidrl's hand?" the guardsman asked in alarm, supporting Kyreial with one hand.
The elf nodded, gesturing that he could walk on his own. He looked shaky but did not fall. "My kind are friends to all earthly beasts. These wolves were either spellbound or not of this world."
Anthen gathered the sprite's scattered belongings. "Where are you going?" he called after the elf, who had started to wander in the opposite direction.
Kyreial started to turn his head but winced. "Shelter," he said and waved for the guardsman to follow.
Anthen clambered back up the steep slope to Rorc, gathered his weapons, and helped the animal back down. He had lost sight of the wounded elf but followed his tracks and blood through the falling snow to a cave entrance hidden from view by several large boulders. He led Rorc inside, where the elf slumped against a log.
"You better let me see to that shoulder. I have medicines and bandages."
"I think not," the elf chuckled, "I have seen what passes for medicine among your kind."
"Suit yourself," the guardsman shrugged, as he laid a fire using a nearby store of dry firewood and kindling. "At least let me fetch food for you."
The elf directed Anthen to a hidden cache of food in the back of the cave in a pit covered by a flat rock, which he never would have found without directions. In the shallow hole he found several covered urns containing the elf's usual fare—dried fruit and vegetables, roots, and nuts. More urns contained water, oats, and other items he did not recognize. He took some of the food as well as oats for Rorc and replaced the rock, making sure the cache was left with no visible sign of its existence.
Upon returning to the fire, he could see the elf had treated his wounds in some manner from some bloody rags nearby. Kyreial was sipping some liquid from an ornate flask. Anthen handed the elf some food and busied himself with unpacking, brushing and feeding his mount. When Rorc was set, he sat by the fire and inspected his own minor wounds. He found puncture wounds on his forearm and his calf. He cleaned and treated the injuries, then wrapped a bandage over each.
"Have some of this." The elf was holding out his flask.
Anthen took the flask and looked at it more closely. It seemed to be made of some type of black, polished material and was covered with intricate carvings. He spied markings that looked like writing but the characters were unfamiliar to the guardsman. He took a sniff and winced; the liquid smelled quite potent.
"Just a sip, mind you," the elf cautioned.
Anthen wasn't sure he wanted even a sip of the strange-smelling potion. "What is it for?"
"That, Guardsman, is real medicine." There was a gleam in the elf's golden eyes.
Anthen shrugged and took a small amount of the liquid in his mouth. It tasted like fire and he almost spat it back out but forced himself to swallow. It burned fiercely and he wasn't sure it would stay down but then the churning in his stomach quieted and he felt a warm glow spreading throughout his body. The pain in his arm and leg disappeared and he felt warm and sleepy. He thanked Kyreial and handed the flask back. He ate a hasty supper before climbing into his bedroll. Kyreial, eyes closed, hadn't moved from his spot next the fire and Anthen guessed the elf's injuries were at least serious enough to force him to endure sleeping next to an inferior human for one night.
"One more thing, Guardsman," Kyreial started and Anthen looked up. "You saved my life back there and I want to express my gratitude."
"You'd have done the same." Anthen could see the elf was having difficulty with the fact that a mere man had saved his life.
"Of course. But I must admit it. You saved my life. I must say I am impressed with your skill; the best elven archer could not do better. And ... I can see now why you are the chosen one. I want you to know that I will do whatever is within my power to do to aid your quest."
"Thank you, Kyreial. I could not hope for a better ally." Anthen could see that the sprite was not completely happy with joining forces with a lowly human and decided to lighten the mood. He grinned broadly, then added, "Well, since you saved my life earlier, that makes us equal eh?"
"Even perhaps, young Anthen, but equal? Never!" The elf laughed merrily, then lay down once again. "Rest, Guardsman. Tomorrow we stand at the foot of Mount Baenkeep."
Anthen laughed with the elf but the mention of their destination brought uneasiness and his sense of foreboding soon returned, stronger than ever. Though exhausted, his sleep was long in coming and far from restful.
Chapter 42
Kyreial was gone when Anthen awoke but he felt no concern, having grown accustomed to the elf's frequent disappearances. It was bitter cold in the cave and he carefully rekindled a fresh blaze from the few remaining embers. A layer of ice covered the leftover coffee and he set it near the fire to heat along with water for bathing. The chilled guardsman remained wrapped in his blanket until the small blaze warmed the cave to a reasonable temperature. While waiting he noticed only slight pain in his wounds received in the wolf attack. He remembered the elf's potent drink and checked his wounds, amazed to find them nearly healed; no wonder the sprite thought so little of his healing skills.
At first light, Kyreial strode into the cave and eagerly accepted the last mug of the steaming, day-old coffee. The elf seemed nearly completely healed as well, only favoring the shoulder slightly.
Clear, dawn skies greeted the pair as they emerged from the cave. The plumes of steam that accompanied each breath were evidence of the morning's cold so near to the summit. They passed the snow-covered mounds of the wolves that attacked the elf, then fought through the heavy snow up to where the remaining three snow-covered carcasses lay. The elf's eyebrows arched in surprise, apparently unaware the guardsman had been attacked by so many.
They covered the short distance to the summit, then started down the other side, once again seeing the mountain among mountains looming above them. Anthen kept his bow handy in case there were more of the dangerous animals lurking. Kyreial halted suddenly and pointed to a spot near the base of the mammoth peak that was the objective of their journey. Anthen's eyes were not as sharp as the elf's but it looked like more than one column of smoke. He whipped out his telescope and found three columns of smoke but trees blocked his view of the source of the smoke.
/> "The dark lord appears to have arrived," Kyreial commented without emotion.
"The smoke comes from our destination? Can you see their camp?" Anthen asked excitedly, not sure of the limits to the elf's vision.
"Yes and no," Kyreial replied calmly, then explained. "By the location of the smoke trails, the fires are very near to the entrance to the labyrinth. And alas, such heavy smoke can only come from your kind and his is the only company in the region."
Anthen felt panic run through him with the knowledge that Cidrl was already there but that alarm dissolved into rage as he thought of Urvena and remembered the terrible images of Garrick's death. He closed his eyes against the awful visions and shook his head, willing himself to calm down. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Kyreial was staring at him, a look of concern on the sprite's slender face.
"Are you unwell?" the elf asked.
"Fine. It’s nothing. We must hurry and reach them before it is too late."
Anthen urged Rorc forward and rode past the elf. He was both in a rush and eager to avoid a discussion of the painful memories. Kyreial shrugged and trotted to catch up with his companion. The pair descended the mountain as fast as they could safely manage. The clear weather aided them and by mid-morning they had dropped below the snow line. By noon they were starting across the broad valley that still separated them from their destination.
The unlikely pair noticed a strange quiet as they started across the valley. There were no sounds or signs of wildlife and Anthen didn't need to query the elf for an explanation. The Draugen, referred to as Draugs by the peasants in the realm, no doubt were the cause of that phenomenon, emerging from their black caves at night to hunt.
"Draugen," the elf spoke the word softly and with a strange intonation.
The unusual tone in Kyreial's voice drew Anthen's attention and for a brief moment, he thought he spied fear in the elf's face. The guardsman felt a cold shiver run down his spine and forced his thoughts back to their quest. He nodded that he was ready, then followed Kyreial across the eerie, silent meadow.
