Chains of the Forest (Chronicles of Ruvaen Book 1)

by Darin Niemann

  I learned from her that each person, even non-mages, have mana within them. The problem is that some people’s mana capacity is so small that even if they were trained to use it they wouldn’t even be able to light a candle with it. Amara also mentioned that magic was separated and distinguished into four main elements. Wind, fire, water, and earth. Though this didn’t prevent the elements from being combined in certain ways. A simple example was of water and earth combining into mud.

  I also asked her about my wind attribute. I was told that most mages were inclined towards a particular element. Rarely one might be inclined towards two elements, or have no inclination at all. A mage’s attribute, in my case wind, would help them use mana more efficiently if used within that element. For instance, if an earth attributed mage tried to start a campfire using the fire element, it would cost more mana than if a fire attributed mage did the same. This is why most mages practiced and honed their skills in a specific element even though they could cast spells within other elements. Small, useful spells, such as casting a magelight, were taught to all even with its domain being that of fire.

  We continued to discuss magic and mages in depth before midday meal. She told me that Mage Franek was of Journeyman rank with three black bands on his sleeves. From lowest to highest, she listed the ranks. Initiate was a single stripe, followed by Novice at two black bands. Then there was Journeyman at three, Mage at four, and Archmage with five bands. I also learned that to enter either mage school, one either needed to pay a fee of twenty gold coins or serve the Council of Mages for five years after graduating from the school. I was hesitant at selling years of my life, though I didn’t have any money whatsoever, let alone twenty gold pieces. When Amara mentioned this to Riken, he had waved away any thoughts of selling myself to the Council.

  “I will cover the fees, don’t fret.” He continued eating as if it matter little. Twenty gold coins! And he offered it so simply.

  I shook my head, “It is too much to ask.”

  Riken chuckled lightly, “Good thing you ain’t asking. Ruvaen, if it means that much to you, how about we say it’s a loan. Once you earn enough you can pay me back and then some. How does that sound?”

  “Father!” Amara scolded.

  I thought about it for only a second before agreeing. “I accept. I will work hard in order to repay my debt.”

  Amara glared at her father, while her mother simply smiled knowingly. Riken shrugged, “That settles that.” The burly man continued eating his meal.

  After our meal, I decided to continue with my sparring. I left with Riken and found Brandt once again who was always eager for a match. We sparred late into the day before Riken found us and ended our current bout. Brandt left promising to give more than he got on the morrow. I just smiled and shook my head as I followed Riken home.

  A month flew by before I knew it. After another week of sparring with only Brandt, Riken finally announced me ready to find new training partners. Many of the guardsmen knew me by then and wanted the chance at a match. I grew more friendly with them each day.

  Once Riken approved of me having other opponents, I figured that I was in control enough to accompany Amara when she invited me to visit with her group of friends. She was elated, at least until Rania became overly friendly with me again and hugged my arm. Amara had yanked the rambunctious, forward girl away from me and spent the rest of the evening standing near me and glaring at those who got too close to me. It seemed that most of those she glared at were young women.

  I felt joy over finally not having the urge to kill people on sight and to have made the friends that I had. For the first time in a long while, life was good. Soon enough, the time approached for Amara and I to set out for the mage schools. It was time to learn magic.

  Chapter 6

  We all stood outside, near the small caravan of people heading to Greypoint. I moved off to the side to let Riken and his wife be alone with their daughter. Resting my hand on the newly acquired sword that I had received from Riken, I studied the group we would be travelling with. There did happen to be another elf and a pair of dwarves, though all of them kept to themselves and looked like they wanted it to stay that way. Besides a merchant or two and the few guards accompanying us, most were ordinary folk who would walk alongside the wagons and horses. I wasn’t sure how long the journey was but I was glad that Riken had acquired a horse for me, while Amara already had one.

  I felt a hand clap my shoulder and turned to find Riken with a smile on his face. “You’ve come a long way, Ruvaen. The sparring has really helped. Now you won’t be a danger to everyone you meet.” His smiled turned to a grin when he spoke the last.

  I grinned in return, cuffing him along his shoulder with the flat of my palm. We shared a chuckle before I spoke again, with a more serious tone. “Thank you, Riken. And I mean that. For everything you’ve done and helped me through, thanks.”

  I stuck out my hand for him to shake and the burly man looked at it before grabbing my hand and suddenly pulling me into a hug. It only lasted a moment before we parted once more and he nodded.

  “You look out for Amara as best you can out there. I’m counting on you.” Riken said as we broke off our handshake.

  I nodded, “With my life.” I said, fully meaning it.

  Riken’s wife, Meriel also came and gave me a hug and wished me luck before they finally left, waving farewell as they faded into the crowds of the city. Amara smiled at me, much too excited to be saddened by the departure from her parents. They would be able to visit soon as well. It wasn’t like the mages locked you away forever, unlike certain Zecresh slavers.

  She began heading for the wagons, pulling her horse behind her. “Come on, let’s go find the caravan master.” I followed her, bringing my own steed along as well. We asked a few people who pointed us over to a wagon, where a man was comparing notes to the contents of the wagon.

  “Mr. Thomas?” Amara asked to get the man’s attention. He looked up and blinked at us, still lost in thoughts of his work. Shaking his head he squinted at us. “That’s me. What is it?” He asked abruptly.

  Amara introduced us, while the man looked through his ledger. He quickly found something and nodded to himself.

  “Ah yes, one Amara and one Ruvaen. You may travel at the rear of the caravan.” He didn’t bother providing an explanation or dismissing us, but just went back to checking the contents of the wagon. Amara looked at me and shrugged before we lead our mounts to the rear end of the caravan. There were only a few travellers on foot following the last wagon. One was a family with two small children with the oldest not even ten years of age yet. There were two more men travelling by foot, though they spoke little and kept to themselves. It seemed that keeping to oneself was a common thing while travelling.

  We only waited for a short while before everyone had arrived and all the wagons had been checked, doubtless more than once. When the travellers on foot began to move, Amara and I nodded to each other and mounted up, slowly following behind at a trot.

  As we travelled, I enjoyed the scenery around me. We passed through lush, bright forests, and wide, open grasslands as we made our way to Greypoint. Amara said that the mages from long ago had built The Towers near the mountains located north and east from Turinval. Having the mountains at their back was a strong, natural barrier of defense in case of war. Later on, when The Towers weren’t large enough to house every mage, they made The Towers’ Annex a ways off from the main school. From then on it became a place for those with lesser power to attend and learn magic.

  For the most part, everything was fine and the trip was going well. Except that two things really began to worry me. On our second night, when Amara and I were sitting near our small campfire, she spoke of a cursed woods named Foxthorn Forest. The curse made it so that anyone that entered the forest would never be able to find their way out again, forever lost in the place. That was worrying enough by itself, but she also spoke of how the only way around the forest was to pass quite clos
e to orcish lands.

  “Why must we go near orc lands at all? Surely the mages could simply remove the curse.” I asked her.

  She frowned, “I’ve heard that even the mages cannot remove the curse from the forest, though I don’t know the reason.”

  Amara then tried to cheer me up by smiling, “Besides, this trip is made by many caravans year round and hardly anyone sees even a single orc.” She fiddled around in her bag while bringing out one of her mother’s wrapped foodstuffs. “Here, try this.” She handed me a biscuit, completely changing the subject.

  I didn’t bring it up again, but I did think about it constantly over the next few days as we came closer to the orcish lands. As my own village had been wiped out by orcs for little to no reason, I knew not to underestimate orcs. They were brutal, warlike creatures and should not be taken lightly. Every time we crested a hill, entered a forest road, or crossed a stream I expected to be ambushed.

  Four days later found us still travelling across the country with no sign of any danger whatsoever, let alone orcs. I thought that perhaps our caravan was just large enough to ward off bandits from attacking. The thought calmed me enough to realize that we were already over halfway to our destination and had only three or four days left to travel. Perhaps Amara was right, and we would make it there without hindrance.

  It was evening when I heard the first scream. We had just made camp only minutes before. I jumped up at the sound, Amara looking towards me in shock. “It can’t be…” She whispered, looking worriedly in the direction of the scream.

  “Stay with the wagon guards.” I told her firmly, before drawing my sword and rushing off towards the sound of the screaming and shouting. As I ran I began to hear the telltale sound of steel ringing against steel. Was it bandits? Orcs? Something else? I rushed as fast as I dared towards the sounds of battle, making sure to keep my eyes open so I didn’t blindly stumble into the enemy.

  Night was falling fast around the camps, making it harder to see. Still, with my elven eyes I had no problem finding my way in the dim lighting. I smelled them before I saw them. Orcs. I would never forget their stench. They reeked from old, dried blood and days or perhaps even weeks of sweat. Orcs were not known to bathe often.

  The good thing was that there weren’t that many orcs compared to the number of caravan guards. The orcs were large, tall, and brutish creatures. They were each a few inches taller than the tallest man and well muscled from constant fighting. Their light green skin and height made them easy targets to pick out amongst the caravan guards.

  I quickly found the area with the thickest amount of orcs and rushed in. This was no spar or duel but rather a mad series of slashing, ducking, and then slashing again and again. I weaved in and out of the orcs, them snarling inhumanly at me as I was always just out of reach whenever they attacked. Though the green skinned creatures were stronger than I, my half-elven nature and light build allowed me to be faster. I fell into a rhythm of dashing in and out of the orcs’ reach. Slice a hamstring here, under an armpit there, across a neck. I focused more on slashing and cutting than I did stabbing or thrusting, as the latter could hinder my swift movements and allow them to get attacks on me.

  It didn’t matter that I wasn’t running them through completely with my sword. I had learned quickly in the arena, and from Riken, that a well placed cut could kill just as easily as stabbing them in the gut. The caravan guards rallied at my steady slaughter of the enemy. Soon enough the orcs, who were apparently not mindless beasts, began to retreat back from where they came. I stood breathing heavily as the guards around me yelled out our triumph.

  It felt good, killing orcs. It was the first time, outside the arena, that I had been able to take some small measure of justice for my parents and village. I knew that the killing wouldn’t bring them back but the more orcs I killed meant it was less likely that what happened to me would happen to others.

  My rest was abruptly interrupted by yet another cry, this time from one of the families travelling with the merchant caravan.

  “My little boy, where is my boy!” A mother cried in aguish, looking around frantically.

  One of the guards nearby spoke up. “I saw a kid leave the campsite before the attack. He was headed towards the cliff up there.” He gestured in the direction of said cliff. It was quite close to where the orcs had retreated to. I knew the woman couldn’t go out there so I walked over to her, quickly telling her that I would go look around the cliff for her son. She thanked me profusely as I wandered off to look for the boy.

  It only took me a few minutes to reach the area indicated by the guardsman. I immediately found the boy, cowering in fear near the cliff. Two orcs stood in front of him, one carried a crossbow while the other had a sword. The one with the crossbow had it pointed in the kid’s direction while the sword wielding orc was bringing his sword back to hack into the child.

  As I sprinted I had only seconds to decide how to save the boy. With only my sword I had to stop both of them before they could attack. I paused for only a second to heave my sword through the air like a throwing knife. I scored a lucky hit with the sword burying itself deep into the chest of the bowman. I had resumed running the moment after throwing, and I watched as the swordsman looked to me as his companion died. He smiled cruelly then, and raised his arm to strike down the frightened, unmoving boy. I used all my strength and speed to get there before I realized that I couldn’t stop or the boy would die. Just as the sword was descending, I crashed into the orc.

  The sword went flying from his hands as we tumbled, rolling across the ground. And then we weren’t rolling across the ground anymore, but falling. Falling and falling. I wasn’t sure how long of a fall this was as it was too dark to see far below, but I knew from how long we had been falling that my only hope was to get the orc’s body under me. The problem was that the orc was stronger than me and he had his hands wrapped around my throat. I struggled against his grip, but my strength wasn’t enough to pry the orc off and my vision was beginning to fade.

  Suddenly, we hit something that stopped our fall, and I nearly fainted from the impact. It whipped my head forward into the orc’s chest. Suddenly the orc’s crushing grip on my neck vanished, and I gasped for air only to receive a half lungful of water and half oxygen. I coughed, fighting the urge to pass out as I slowly began to regain my vision. I realized that we had fallen into a river and that I had been atop the orc when we landed. Looking at the orc beneath me, I saw that his neck had been broken by the impact as he stared up at the sky; glassy eyes stared into nothingness without blinking. Luck had been with me as I surely would have met the same fate had I been below him.

  Once I regained my breath, I shoved the dead orc away and began swimming. I couldn’t see very far in either direction, but I could feel the current pulling me strongly in a direction and I angled my course to head towards what I hoped to be the riverbank. After what felt like an eternity, my feet finally found purchase below me, and I stumble out of the river, thoroughly exhausted by the night's events. I collapse onto the dry land, resting and recovering my strength. As I lay there on the riverbank, I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep forthwith. Not knowing what dangers lay nearby, I forced myself to my feet and began to gather my bearings.

  I was in a forest, with curling, gnarled trees filling the space around me. Shrubbery dotted the riverbank in places; some laden with berries though I didn’t know which ones were edible. Everything seemed off somehow. It clearly wasn’t a dead or barren forest, but rather the forest itself appeared… muted. That was when I realized I could see because of the dim light. The dim light that had no source but shown everywhere. I was beginning to guess at where I had stumbled into and did not like the thought.

  I tried to recall all the things I had heard of this ‘cursed’ forest. Amara had mentioned the place but only to say that nobody ever found their way out and that it was unwise to ever go there. I had also heard a few of the other travellers and guards talking about it the night before.
One of the caravan guards had mentioned that the forest had no day and night, but rather just a dim light that never faltered and never waned. Another had mentioned that it was a hell on the mortal plane and filled full of demons. As I looked around without seeing any of the hellish creatures, I figured the last one to be a bit farfetched.

  I decided that staying near the river was my best option. If I became lost in the woods I would die quickly without a source of water. Having grown up in a forest, I knew that a good amount of food could be found near a river. Edible plants and animals both could be found near a river. The eerie silence around me lead me to wonder how many animals there actually were.

  I drank some water before I began walking in a direction. Without the sun or moon to guide me, I had no idea if I was heading north or south. I did know that I was following the river upstream, in the off chance that it would lead me out of the forest. I didn’t really know what I was looking for, but I wanted to find a place that I could sleep with at least relative safety. After what seemed like hours, though I had no way to tell how much time had passed, I hadn’t found any decent shelter, let alone finding my way out of this surely cursed forest. I was beginning to think that my best option was to sleep under a tree with large surface roots. Tired as I was, I decided that I would stop at the next big tree I saw. Now that I had been in the forest for a while, I wasn’t too worried about being attacked in my sleep. I hadn’t seen or heard any other living thing outside of the trees and plants surrounding the riverbank. Then again, this was a cursed forest. Perhaps there were dangers I had yet to think about. That thought kept me awake as I looked for a more secure place to rest.

  Ahead of me, fog or mist or whatever it was that muted my sense of sight, I saw something wonderful. It was a hut! A small, wooden hut that was nothing much to look at, but it was shelter. I began to pick up my pace before I realize how stupid I was being. There could be someone there and for all I knew they would kill me on sight, or at least attempt to. I slowed my pace, walking so as to make as little noise as possible. Even in my tired state, I forced myself to watch for every little twig or branch that could announce my approach.