Talem burst into the barn. "Are my eyes playing tricks on me, or did I just see my daughter coming out of here?"
"Which one do you mean? As far as I know, you have four."
"Cut out the jokes."
"Yeah, we talked."
"Are you crazy? Kalla will kill me!"
"Relax, she promised that it would be our little secret. Your lovely wife will never even know."
"You don’t know Kell. The word secret is an unknown thing to her."
"Is it just me, or are you more scared than me that somebody will find me here?"
Talem frowned and shoved a little bag under his nose. "Here, I brought you some breakfast and a shaving kit."
"Shaving kit?"
"You look terrible."
In the bag, Neran found a slice of bread and a chunk of raw meat. "You know how I like it," he sneered. He bent over the barrel of water and looked inquisitively at his own reflection. True, he looked a bit rough around the edges, but it wasn´t so bad!
"If I were a gnome, I would be considered handsome," he mocked.
"But for now you need to resemble a human being, right?"
Neran snatched the bag from his hands. "Give it to me, I’ll be leaving in a short while."
"So you haven’t changed your mind?"
Neran unbuttoned his shirt, eased it off his shoulders and carefully placed it on the hay next to the barrel. He splashed water onto his cheeks and chin and lathered his face. Taking the razor in his hand he bent over the barrel to see what he was doing. "You knew I wouldn’t."
“You’ll end up pushing up daisies.”
"Cut it out. Don’t you have anything to do?"
"Are you throwing me out of my own barn?"
"Sorry, but you get on my nerves."
Talem sighed: "Let all the Gods be with you, my friend."
Out of the corner of his eye, Neran watched Talem disappear outside through the barn door, closing it behind him. After the last stroke of the razor had brushed his skin, he washed his face, and looked at his reflection. He looked young again. He had a square face, dark skin, and dark brown ruffled hair. Beneath the dense, low eyebrows sat dark eyes which hid passion and ferocity. He rubbed the palm of his hand against his smooth chin and realized that with or without a beard, he still looked dangerous.
He gobbled up breakfast, donned his hooded coat, and walked out of the barn into the forest that lay beyond it.
It was a dark overcast day and the entire forest was shrouded in shadows. It felt sinister and unpredictable. The beaten path he was following led through thorny thickets. As he walked, he was oblivious to the green vines which strangled the trunks of trees and the howling wind. He knew the way through the deep Liana Forest like the back of his hand. All the time, he had only one thing on his mind, his meeting with the dryad.
If it was true what people said, that Dryad Elana was very powerful, that meant she was dangerous too. Neran was ready to fulfil any task, as long as he got to learn more about the Tears of Étarlina.
He remembered his brother, and imagined Aragen’s face. Hatred welled up inside him. It had only occurred to him yesterday that his presence here, so close to the last attack of the darkwolves, was risky, but sometimes one had to take risks. Neran’s life had always been full of risks.
If he had the same abilities as darkwolves, he would have killed Aragen himself a long time ago. Darkwolves were different, but until now, he hadn´t been able to figure out why.
Like all the others, their ancestors were brought to this world at the beginning of the time of the Black Messenger. He was also a messenger sent by the Lord of Hell. His sons were called weer worfs in the language of the Fiery Gorges and in the human tongue, Sons of Hell. The creatures had a human form but could shape-shift into ferocious, bloodthirsty beasts resembling wolves, which fed on human flesh. After the arrival of the elves and the onset of peace, the Elven Gods had chased the Black Messenger back into the Fiery Gorges. After his departure, his sons were no longer able to breed and the humans had gradually ceased their pursuit of exterminating the werewolves.
Darkwolves were different. Their pack had appeared during the uprising of the Thirteen Demons. Their capability to reproduce remained. Aragen controlled certain dark forces, but because there was no other pack they could only mate amongst themselves. This was leading to birth defects and diseases. In other words, darkwolves were becoming weaker and dying out.
Aragen was trying hard to keep it a secret. Neran knew it, but it was useless. Who would believe a werewolf? At least he knew the weakness of the darkwolves. Unfortunately, that weakness had become a threat to Neran. After a while he came to the top of a gentle hill and saw the outline of another deep forest. This forest was much denser, more magical and mysterious than the small forest near Nilvana. It was the Liana Forest.
Beyond it lay the vast maze of Liana Rocks.
Neran paused at the edge of the Liana Forest for a moment and stared at the magnificent huge trees. The trees were considered to be the tallest in the whole of Arnnolen and were nourished by magic. The trunks were ochre in colour, while the branches were olive green, sometimes yellowish. Blue and green mushrooms grew from their trunks. The roots of the trees partly protruded from the soil.The remainder lay deep underground supporting paths and tunnels for underground pixies.
Neran closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The smell of pine needles tickled his nose, and the sound of the breeze through the high tree tops was like the softest and sweetest jingling of little bells.
Neran knelt down on one knee and pulled a small dagger out of a holster which he had belted over his thigh. With a little force he plunged the dagger into the grass and then uttered softly:
"This is my gift to you, noble Liana. Let your wisdom decide."
Then he stood up and slipped between the slim, giant trees.
Liana was the most powerful nymph in the land. She was a Dryad or a Forest Nymph. More than one thousand years had passed since she had turned into the dew that adorns every forest in the morning. She had left her earthly life and had become a spirit that watched over her deep forest and rocks. It was right here that she had lived thousands of years ago.Her power was so great that she even took it upon herself to protect the Oreads or Mountain Nymphs who lived in the nearby rocks.
Although nymphs were considered to be nice creatures and people worshipped them as demigoddesses, they were treacherous and tricky creatures. They could be as treacherous as they were wise, kind and loving, as well as cruel and merciless. Every human who wanted to enter Liana’s Forest or Rocks therefore had to leave a gift before entering. Something of personal importance to them. If they didn´t harm the forest and treated it with respect, their gift was returned to them when leaving it. Any sign of disrespect and the gift would not be returned and great misfortune befell them.
Neran was not superstitious, but he did not want to push his luck and therefore followed the advice that had been passed down over the centuries. He would show Liana respect and to her forest as well.
Ferns grew everywhere. They were tall, dark green, lightly covered in dew and brushed against Neran’s trousers. Mist and moisture hung in the air. The tree tops were so dense that they intertwined and formed an almost impregnable canopy. Wild strawberries grew everywhere and there were bushes full of large ripe raspberries. Despite the temptation Neran did not dare touch, pick or taste. He knew it was part of the test. Humans had no right to take anything from Liana´s forest unless the nymphs or fairies allowed it.
Soon a wide glade dotted with colourful flowers opened out in front of him. Remaining vigilant, he stepped out of the shadows of the forest. He was cautious of every movement or sound, of every rattle or rustle. Despite his wariness, harmony ruled the glade. Insects buzzed, birds twittered and the forest rustled behind him high above his head. In the middle of the meadow rose a small, green hill straddled by the Altar of Flowers.
Neran gently touched the hilt of his sword just to make sure that it
was still there. He knew that humans avoided this place most of the year and only sought it out during certain festivals. He walked to the mound. As he came closer he could feel his skin tingle. Magic ruled this place.
Hundreds of Flower Fairies, possibly more, flew around him. Some of them dodged him and eyed him with curiosity. Some shouted at him, asking him what he wanted, and if he came to die here. Neran ignored them. He approached the mound and began climbing it. Suddenly, he heard a beautiful, soothing sound.
A sweet melody came fromabove. The music was so magical and captivating that for a moment he almost let down his guard. He quickly recovered and walked on paying no further attention to the music.
When he got to the top, a large golden altar lay before him. The sun´s reflections stabbed at his eyes. It was round and supported only by a single pillar covered in various inscriptions in an unknown language. Around it lay white stones in a semi-circle covered with a climbing plant with countless pink flowers. The plant, together with other climbing plants,also crept up the pillar of the altar which was covered with a scattering of small red flowers.
Neran took a deep breath. On one of the white stones in front of the altar sat a woman whose beauty could hurt any man´s eyes.
She looked as if she were created by nature herself. Her skin was soft and slightly translucent, and shimmered like mother of pearl. Her wavy golden hair fell over her shoulders and onto her back, framing her tender face. Her slender hourglass figure was only scantily clothed. Neran could not take his eyes off her graceful curves. Her breasts and pubes were covered in the same vines that crept over the altar, and red and white flowers grew out of her and shrouded her.
Neran swallowed. The nymph sat there with her legs slightly bent, playing a golden harp. That was where the sweet tones had been coming from.
Neran quickly overcame his captivation and took a step closer. He was not afraid, only a little tense about what would happen. Anyone who came to visit this dryad beyond festivals allegedly received a task that was impossible to fulfil. Superstition was a strong thing. Few people, if any at all, had returned to tell the tale.
The nymph stopped playing and opened her eyes. Her eyes dazzled Neran. They were bright yellow without whites and with wide black pupils.
"Tell me human," she said in a gentle voice, "what brings you to the Altar of Flowers? Did you bring a gift or sacrifice for the forest? If you did you must have mistaken the day. Come on the Feast of Flowers or Trees and you'll be welcome."
She stretched her fingers and began to play her harp again. Neran did not move or say anything. After a while the nymph’s music subsided again.
"I offer the grace to leave only once, human. I will not repeat it again."
"I did not come to donate or sacrifice," Neran replied calmly. The nymph turned away from the harp and looked up at him. Malice glittered in her eyes.
"No human is allowed to come to the Altar of Flowers on a day other than a festival day," she said. "Those who break this law meet their death."
"I didn’t come here to die, honourable nymph," Neran said firmly. "I came here for an answer and advice."
The nymph rose and her posture radiated anger. Her face was as cold as her voice. "What insolence that you come here and demand something from me!"
"You are Elana, the most powerful dryad still alive. You know the answer to any question. I didn’t come to you to demand anything. I came to ask you something."
The nymph raised her chin and looked at him with interest. "You must be either insane or courageous."
Neran grinned. "Maybe both."
The nymph stepped closer to him. Neran, as every man would have, struggled with the powerful temptation he felt when he looked at her body.
“Then listen! Neran, son of Keron ...” she said, piercing him with her stare. "You may ask me your question and I'll answer, but not before you answer my question first."
A question?No superhuman task? Neran was a little disappointed.
"All right then," he nodded. "What would you like to ask me?"
The nymph lifted one finger.
"Beware," she added almost in a whisper, "you have only one attempt. If you answer wrong, I'll take your life."
Neran didn’t think twice. "So be it."
The nymph smiled a little. "Well then." She went back to the stone and sat down. She looked around at the tall trees that surrounded them, and then up to the sky.
"Surely you know that as nymphs, we love music. Judging by your arrogance, I also assume that you have expert knowledge of such things, and that you must have heard of my sister, Nymph Oteyla. If you have, then will know what musical instrument she plays."
Neran stared at her. He was flummoxed. How on earth could he know such a thing? Of course, he had no idea if Oteyla actually existed. He had never heard of her, let alone knew if she played an instrument! Elana was teasing him because he had been arrogant towards her.That much was clear.
An impossible task would have been easier.
"Why do you ask such a thing?"
"I can ask you what I want because I make the rules. Your question might also be about anything."
Neran clenched his teeth, trying to control himself and not growl. He wanted to pluck the head off the pompous dryad, whether she was beautiful or not!
"Does that mean that you don’t know the answer to my question?"
“I did not say that,” he snapped back with emotion. He tried to concentrate. Nymphs love music. Elana plays the harp. He tried to imagine her with another instrument. Something that she could easily carry. Violin? Flute? It could be the flute. He had seen plenty of pictures and frescoes that depicted fairies and nymphs with flutes. It could easily be a harp. She says sister ... maybe, they had the same taste.
It was clear to him that he had to take a risk with his answer. He could not even guess what was right. There was nothing else he could do. He looked at the nymph. She waited patiently and kept looking at him. The yellow whites of her eyes made him nervous. He felt sweat running down his back. He took a deep breath. Maybe he should have thought more seriously about this trip.
Elana lifted an eyebrow. Neran nodded.
"I know."
"Yes?"
"The answer is the flute. Oteyla plays the flute."
Elana smiled, then winked in sympathy.
"I'm sorry. Oteyla doesn’t play any instrument."
Neran was furious. "That’s a falsity! A teaser!"
Elana’s lovely face twisted with contempt: "Are you accusing me?"
"You said that nymphs love music!”
"It is true, but that doesn’t mean that they must all play a musical instrument."
Neran raved. He clenched his fists and wrestled with himself.
The nymph took a step towards him. "I guess you're not ready to die, are you?" A treacherous expression appearing on her face. Neran was not afraid. He was still hopping mad.He could not believe that she had tricked him like that!
"And what about a second chance?"
"No, I'm sorry," the nymph said. She said it in such a way that Neran very much doubted she regretted it at all.
"I should go now," he shrugged and turned around to leave. The nymph, however, appeared right in front of him. Neran paused.
Witchcraft.
"You owe me your life," she said and her voice changed. It was as rough and as turbulent as a storm. Neran looked up to see the sky grow dark. The clouds thickened, pulling and heaving, bumping into each other, reflecting the anger of their demigoddess. An ominous shadow then fell on the mound.
"You're mine!" the nymph exclaimed as the wind picked up. Her hair flew into the air and spread around her head like a golden fan. Suddenly, her hair turned completely black, her eyes filled with darkness and her skin lost its sparkle, turning pale like that of a corpse.
Neran shivered. She was still beautiful but terrifyingly so.
"You broke the law of the Altar of Flowers and did not fulfil the task! Now you must die!"
The dryad erupted from exertion and anger. She stared at him amazed and furious at the same time. She screamed and held out her arms again. The tingling sensation came back, but nothing else happened.
Neran grinned and shrugged.
The nymph bared her teeth. "What does this mean? Who are you?"
"Maybe, you don’t know the answer to every question, do you?" he said sarcastically. The nymph howled with rage.
"Werewolf!" she cried out.
"They call me that too," Neran admitted. "Or beast, killer, and monster." The nymph screamed furiously and stretched her arms up to the sky again. Her pitch-black hair swirled around her like tentacles as the clouds in the sky grew darker and the gale strengthened.
Neran knew that the wisest thing to do would be to flee. However, he was determined not to leave until he had the answer to his question.
He used his superhuman speed and tried to attack the nymph first. The dryad blocked his assault with witchcraft. Neran felt pressure on his knees and chest and then something threw him to the ground. The blow was so powerful that an imprint of his body was left on the ground. His bones tingled.
This won’t do.
He jumped to his feet and swiftly grabbed of one of the Flower Fairies. The Fairy squeaked and began pounding his imprisoning fingers with her tiny fists.
The dryad froze.
Neran knew that fairies were the daughters of nymphs. He bet on their bond, but he was not sure about it.
"What are you doing?" Elana’s voice thundered.
"One more step and I’ll crush the butterfly like a ripe raspberry."
The nymph put on a stony face. "Is that supposed to stop me?" Neran began to doubt himself, but did not let it show.
"They're your children, aren’t they? You created them. You don’t care if I make minced meat out of her?"
"Go ahead," the dryad replied. Neran shrugged and began to squeeze. The nymph suddenly screamed: "Enough!"
Neran paused. "I beg your pardon?Did you say something?"
Son of hell: Blood of wolves Page 7
