by Logan Petty
Sawain spoke through grit teeth, “What do you mean? You left me before I had a chance to get ready!”
Naralei shook her head fervently, “No, we didn’t! It is a stealth mission. We were being still and silent while everyone moved into position. I tried to get your attention, but you’re as observant as a blind troll!”
Sawain snapped back, “You shouldn’t disappear until everyone knows where you are!”
Naralei was ready to retort when a yell from behind stopped her. Mari and Timbrel hopped over to Sawain and Naralei. Mari held her left arm, which was red with blood. Mari looked panicked and Timbrel bounced around everyone’s feet in frantic circles. Mari’s tone was shrill when she spoke.
“Razorthorn! Moving in fast!”
Naralei glanced quickly in the direction Mari came from. Sawain followed her glance. It was hard to see, but easy to hear. The forest lurched and churned as what looked like a giant serpent made of foot long, sword-like thorns ripped through the undergrowth and up into a nearby tree. It was as wide as an oak and at least twice as long.
It was also heading their way.
Naralei shouted in a panic, “Break cover! Move!”
The elves quickly leaped from tree to tree in a frantic effort to get away from the churning mass of deadly thorns. Sawain was quick to follow. He ran and jumped to the next tree moments before the Razorthorn shredded the branch he was standing on into compost.
They fled clumsily, while they did whatever they could think of to slow the titanic monster down. Loraleth turned and flung a pair of throwing knives at the beast, which hit their mark, but were swallowed up in the churning mass. Naralei yelled out to her.
“Don’t bother attacking this thing, just run!”
Sawain was content to obey, until running was no longer an option. A flurry of javelins from ahead greeted them when they burst into the next clearing. He ducked to avoid them. Tobi nearly took a javelin in the chest, but he was near Sawain, so he tugged his clumsier friend down with him. They both clung to their branches for a moment. Sawain bounced back up, glancing at Tobi, who was still clinging to the branch.
“Tobi, get up! We’re about to be eaten by a plant!”
Tobi struggled to his feet, glancing behind him at the creature that was quickly gaining on them now.
“It’s not necessarily a plant. It’s an elemental. Once it’s enraged, it won’t stop until its target is dead or it is.”
They moved to the tree to the right as another volley of javelins narrowly missed their mark. Sawain growled.
“How do I kill it?”
Tobi shrugged, “It’s an elemental. How do you kill a force of nature?”
Sawain had an idea. He sheathed his blade as his plan formulated. He noticed a throwing knife in Tobi’s belt similar to Loraleth’s. He took it from him and looked around the clearing. He noticed several of the dimly glowing vines were draped over the open ground, attached to the hungry flowers above that he easily recognized. He noticed the ground below was level and muddy looking. He assumed it meant another pit of quicksand. The others were crouching behind tree trunks, trying to return volleys of knives between volleys of javelins. He spotted Mari and Timbrel.
“Mari! Can you use your magic to subdue the tribals?”
She looked visibly shaken. Timbrel shook her, then answered Sawain.
“I think we know a lullaby that can deal with these pests! But Mari won’t budge!”
Sawain was surprised that the Pankin could talk. He did not have time to reflect on this new revelation.
“Get her up. I need those javelins to stop flying!”
Timbrel nodded, then turned to Mari, shaking her as hard as his tiny paws could, “Ya hear that, lass? We’re needed on the front line! Time to strike up a lullaby!”
Sawain saw her stir slightly, then hesitantly nod. She shook with fear as she pulled her flute out.
Sawain was out of time. The chanting of the tribals stopped as the tree behind Sawain exploded into thousands of splinters. Sawain prayed quickly as he jumped toward one of the vines, arm outstretched.
Lord Turin, I need your divine power to destroy this monster.
Before his prayer was finished, the familiar sensation of electricity ran from his chest to his fingertips and seared his muscles. He ground his teeth, bearing the pain and twisted in the air to throw the charged knife. It flew surprisingly well, given he had never practiced with a throwing knife.
It struck the rampaging elemental and burst into flames, which threw it off of its current trajectory. Sawain’s outstretched hand touched the vine. The sticky, acidic tongue of the flower immediately wrapped around his arm and pulled upward. He fell toward the ground. The Razorthorn dove after him, enraged by the fiery knife.
Sawain’s fall broke inches from the ground as the vine pulled itself upward. His momentum allowed him to swing forward. He drew the sword Nerelis gave him with his free hand as the writhing mass of wooden blades crashed into the ground hard. He sliced the vine above his arm as he reached the high point of his maneuver. He felt the vine loosen as he launched through the air.
He landed in a tree on the other side of the clearing. He was inches away from one of the tribals who ambushed them. He did not notice the beautiful, slow song that drifted on the damp air until now. The elf’s eyes glazed over and stared sleepily in the direction of the song. Sawain did not hesitate.
He buried the blade of his sword into the defenseless elf’s chest, then ripped it out. The fatal wound broke the spell Mari’s song had over the tribal. He gasped, then collapsed, falling from the tree. Sawain glanced around to his left and right. Banthan and Loraleth came from both sides of the clearing, cutting down any of the entranced enemies they came across. More knives whirred through the air, picking off a pair of foes that were shaking free from the enchantment.
Sawain looked below him and saw the Razorthorn thrashing madly in the quicksand beneath him. Once, his heart skipped a beat when he thought the elemental would break free of the vacuum-like muck that swallowed it alive. His worry was in vain. The team watched in awe as the giant sand pit eventually won against the Razorthorn and pulled it into the dark depths.
Everyone cheered as the terror ended, even Banthan, though he stayed back while the others rushed Sawain. Many back slaps and hugs ensued while they chanted his name. He noticed Naralei’s hug lasted the longest. When she let go, her eyes glistened and she smiled broadly.
“I was wrong about you, Sawain. I’m sorry for all the cruel things I said back there. You are an amazingly fast thinker. How did you make that knife explode like that?”
Sawain flexed his still burning arm while he returned the smile, “I drew on some of Turin’s power. It’s dangerous for me to do without my focus, but I had to do something. I’m just glad it worked.”
She stared at him in wonder and shook her head. She lightly punched his sore arm. He instinctively winced.
“I’m glad it did too, but one rule you might want to remember is that a leader never admits to his team that he was just guessing.”
Sawain was taken aback. He did not expect to be called a leader, especially so soon. He wiped the surprised expression from his face and nodded.
“So, I guess we’d better finish this course.”
Naralei nodded, then glanced around to count heads, “Everyone here? Great. Let’s make for the exit. Shouldn’t be much trouble left, but stay alert, just in case.”
Naralei pushed into the thicket and the rest of her team followed her. Sawain stayed in the middle of the group this time, to make sure he did not loose them again. Tobi traveled alongside him, smiling like a child who was given a piece of cake all for himself.
The rest of the mission was relatively quiet. They had to avoid more deadly plants, pointed out by Tobi, but it was not difficult once they saw them. Sawain began to notice Tobi’s true gift and understood why Nerelis must have kept him on the team.
They emerged from the briar grove soon. They were bloodied and b
attered, but not broken. The group of friends clasped hands with each other and exchanged congratulations. Nerelis emerged from the tangle seconds after them, completely unscathed. The team lined up in front of him and stood up straight, with their hands at their sides. Sawain mimicked them closely. Nerelis folded his hands behind his back, smiling coyly.
“So, you survived. Very good. Now, time to decide if you passed.”
He paused for a moment and looked them all over closely. Sawain’s heart raced in his chest as anxiety plagued him. Nerelis spoke again after an agonizing eternity.
“You were sloppy. Your formation was a mess. Your lack of communication nearly killed a team mate. You made so much noise that you drew every enemy in the grove to you, including an angry Razorthorn Elemental. Yet, through quick thinking and an impressive show of skill, the newcomer pulled this wreckage of a team through and brought you safely to the other side. Naralei, you have failed as a leader, but Sawain, you have shown promise, though you are completely unorthodox. Perhaps you can be shaped into something useful after all.”
Sawain could not hold back the smile on his face. He was not completely certain, but it sounded like Captain Nerelis, the scourge of his existence, just paid him a compliment. Things were already starting to brighten in this dark forest.
Nerelis used the rest of the day to drill the basics into the team. They worked on swordsmanship, stamina, and communication skills for hours. The Captain kept his word to hold Mirehawk an hour longer than usual. He worked them hard until they did not have the strength to complain.
Everyone on the team was so tired after he released them that they all dragged themselves straight to their rooms. Sawain had every intention to do the same. A firm hand clasped his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks. Captain Nerelis’ voice rumbled in his ear.
“Hold on a minute, Thrallborn. We need to talk.”
Sawain stared longingly at his team mates, who were already out of earshot and did not notice he was not with them. He warily turned to the Captain.
“What did I do this time?”
Nerelis furrowed his brow, “You will watch your tone around me, understand?”
Sawain grit his teeth, “I understand.”
Nerelis glared into his eyes. Sawain felt his soul wither somewhat under the scrutiny of the stare. Nerelis waited a moment longer before he spoke again.
“You made a very bold claim earlier today, Thrallborn, when you claimed to be the son of Skalda Briaredge. I do not think you realize just how bold it was. I want to know where you heard the name.”
Sawain’s curiosity outweighed his distaste for Nerelis, “Briaredge? That’s the first time I’ve heard that name. My mother was just called Skalda. We were thralls, so we did not have last names.”
Nerelis stared hard at him for a moment. His arms folded across his chest. He finally spoke again.
“Maybe you are not related to the Skalda I know… but you look so much like her… I am tempted to believe you.”
Sawain perked up, “You knew my mother? Did you really know her or did you know her like a commoner knows who the Segrammir is?”
Nerelis did not answer his question. His eyes were glazed over, as if he was lost in thought. His eyes focused a few seconds later.
“Tell me about your mother, Thrallborn. Tell me everything.”
Sawain scratched his head and searched his memory. “Well, I don’t remember much. She died when I was still very young, maybe three or four years old. I remember that she had long blonde hair, like gold, that she wore in braids. She also had green eyes, like mine. She used to sing me a lullaby. I don’t really remember much of it. It had something to do with the trees of Alfhaven.”
Sawain was shocked to see a smile slip onto Nerelis’ face. The Captain quickly covered it up and cleared his throat.
“Is that all?”
Sawain thought for a moment, “Well, when she died, I remember that she looked so pretty. Master Torval treated her better than the rest of us. When she died, instead of being burnt in the ditch, like a thrall, he made a funeral pyre for her. I remember that day well. She was wearing a velvet green dress and a crown of vines with a gem of some sort set in the middle.”
Nerelis interrupted Sawain’s description with a shaky voice, “It was Skalda Briaredge. He gave her a hero’s funeral, even after he kept her a slave all those years. I believe you, Sawain. Unlike the rest of the city, I was, and still am, one of your mother’s supporters. We grew up together and were very close. I was told she died years before you could have been born.”
Sawain shrugged, “Well, here I am, so I guess you were lied to. The Triumvirate, no doubt, told you that. What do they have against my mother that would push them to trying to kill me off, too?”
Nerelis sighed, “They are not trying to kill you, Sawain, but they do not believe you will succeed. There is much corruption in the Triumvirate of late, but they would not resort to murder. They don’t want your story to be true because it would mean that they would have to deal with another war so soon after the last one your mother started.”
Sawain’s anger swirled in his stomach, “What do you mean? My mother did not start a war.”
Nerelis nodded slowly, “Yes, she did, but I am not saying it was an unjust war. I believed then and hold to it today that what she did was for the greater good of the Forest.”
Sawain was taken aback, “Why are you telling me this?”
Nerelis sighed, “I’m telling you this because I needed to know. The Triumvirate called me last night and told me you were a false prophet that needed to be punished. They ordered me to work you so hard that you would break, then expel you from the program. They cannot pass a death sentence on you because the Council of Ancestors believe in your cause. I side with the Council’s wisdom over the Triumvirate’s. I want to see you succeed. All of that aside, I will still try to follow through with the Triumvirate’s orders. I will try to break you. You must be stronger than anything that I can throw at you, or you will never live up to your mother’s legacy. Just remember this when I am pushing you beyond your limits every day: I do it because I know you can defy the Triumvirate and survive the training.”
Sawain was speechless. All he could do was nod. He tried to comprehend this sudden shift in Nerelis’ attitude. Nerelis shooed Sawain.
“Get to bed, son of Skalda. Tomorrow is going to be worse than today. I promise you that.”
Sawain turned and silently walked away. So many questions formed in his mind, though his tongue did not try to form them. He was so tired that he could barely retain all he just learned. He made his way to his dark bedroom and fell into his bed face first. He tossed and turned for an hour as he thought of all the answers to his past and his heritage Nerelis must have had. Sleep eventually took him.
He dreamed of his mother for the first time since he left Anvilheim.
Chapter 7
Training continued the next day. Everyone’s attitude toward Sawain was already changing. That morning, at breakfast, the entire team sat together, boasting and chattering excitedly about yesterday’s events. Loraleth, who sat at Sawain’s right elbow, fawned over Sawain’s heroics.
“When Sawain threw that fire knife at the Razorthorn in mid air and swung on that Hanging Death vine, that was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen!”
Mariten, who sat diagonal from Sawain’s left chimed in next, “My favorite part was when the Razorthorn took a nosedive into the quicksand pit!”
She made a motion with her arm as if it was the Razorthorn diving into the deadly sand on the table. She whistled lower and lower the closer it got to the table, then made a crashing sound with her mouth as her hand slapped the wooden surface. Timbrel jumped up and down on her shoulders while he chanted victoriously.
“The beast is dead! The beast is dead! Long live Sawain, slayer of pointy things!”
Mari joined in the chorus Timbrel struck up.
Naralei was not as thrilled about all the praise Sawain received. Sh
e sat on the other side of Mari and stirred her oatmeal slowly. It looked untouched. Sawain noticed that she would not even look at him. He tried to not let it get to him and instead bask in the praise of his newly found friends. The harder he tried, the sooner his mind went to feeling uneasy. He needed to say something to ease his tension.
“It wasn’t all me. We would have never made it if we didn’t have Mari and Timbrel’s magical music. And Tobi, You helped me find a way to stop that thing in just seconds. Banthan and Loraleth saved us the trouble of dealing with those dark elves, and Naralei held us all together with her quick acting and leadership. In fact, Naralei saved my life in the beginning. I flew into a rage and almost ruined the entire mission. She pulled me back to sanity.”
Naralei looked up from the table she was staring at and gave Sawain a shocked, but grateful smile. Sawain caught it from the corner of his eye. The others were silent for a moment. Everyone looked thrilled to be complemented, even Banthan.
The conversation picked back up shortly and Naralei contributed to it this time. Breakfast ended and Mirehawk made their way to the training field indicated to them in the notes on their doors when they woke up. They walked to a grassy hill that was enclosed by a short wooden fence. A gray robed figure stood at the top of the hill. The figure’s face was shrouded by the shadow cast over it by the gray hood.
The young team approached warily. Sawain sensed something different about this person. They climbed the hill and lined up, as if out of habit. Naralei spoke to the figure.
“Are you our teacher today? I know my father said he would not be here.”
Sawain glanced sideways at her. She did not mention this to anyone at breakfast. He wondered if their conversation last night had anything to do with Nerelis’ absence. The hooded figure pulled back the veiling cloth. The beautiful, but deadly face of Lady Tirinele greeted them with a venomous smile. Sawain’s shock rooted him to the spot. The others took an instinctive step backwards. He thought he heard one of the girls gasp, though it could have been Tobi.
