Daegan (The Age of Alandria: A Companion Novella) (10 page)

The three other riders were silently tense, but continued to watch the forest for any signs of danger. All had put away their weapons as Daegan had said, but kept a hand ready to grab them at a moment’s notice. Daegan began chanting in a low hum words that were barely distinguished, but obviously in another language than that of the Faeries. It almost sounded like singing. The meaning of the words was simple. They meant surrender and that they were not there to harm, but to protect; ally, not foe.

The bickering had stopped between the warriors, but before anyone could say anything more, there was a creaking noise in the distance, but not too far away from them. And then there was a snapping sound directly behind them followed by a short slithering sound. Before they could react, several tree roots uprooted themselves and quickly entangled themselves around the arrogant warrior—Fromíl—and jerked him off his feet, sending him crashing to the forest floor. He was then ripped through some of the underbrush. Thorns, rocks, and sticks tore at his clothing and flesh. His screams filled the darkened late afternoon sky under the canopy. It happened so quickly no one had time to save him even if they had tried. Almost as one, the warriors began to react, withdrawing their swords and daggers.

“No. Put them away unless you want to be next,” Daegan warned them. “There was nothing we could do for him.” He meant it, and turned to keep walking. “Someone will need to grab his horse.”

The other Ferrishyn, though battle and death were nothing new to them, stood there in shock as Daegan got a short ways ahead of them.

Snapping to it quickest, Kâlin issued the command that brought them back to the present. “I do not wish to remain here any longer than necessary. Let us move.” Grabbing the reins of the horses, they clipped along at a brisk pace trying to catch up.

Death was nothing new to Daegan either, but it was still challenging to watch when not completely necessary. A statement was being made, this he knew. He continued to chant his low-toned words at almost a whisper, but he knew the Ancients could hear them. He could feel their energy. It ran deep throughout their roots under the ground. This entire forest was connected by it. It felt old and ancient, wise and suspicious. There was also deep anger and an underlying restlessness. However, there was recognition as well. This forest knew Daegan and trusted him, but there was a time long ago when a journey through these woods went far differently.

✠✠✠

He had passed through with a squad not much larger than the one he had presently. The magic and the anger he had felt upon entering were so strong it had almost crippled him from continuing through, but he had a duty to fulfill. 

There had been a scream from a woman that ripped through his soul. It called to him, to something inside him. He ran, tearing through the trees and the branches until he got close to where the screams came from. His squad followed as closely behind him as they could. Without sound, he crept closer, unseen. He turned back to them, cautioning them not to make a sound. There was a strong wind here in this dense part of the forest, but to him it did not feel dark, instead intensely angry. Leaning on one of the trees he was using to sneak behind, he
felt
the tree—its emotions, its pain, its anger for retribution. Daegan had jerked back, startled; he had never felt that much coming from the trees before. He knew they were living beings and respected them as such, but this was different. It was
alive
.

Laying his hands on several others near him, he could feel various emotions all quite similar in intensity as the first one. The amount of energy coming from this forest was unlike any of the other forests he had traveled in Alandria, and there were a lot of them. This was one of the ancient groves he had only heard stories about. He knew his men were staring at his strange behavior as they did not know of his gifts, but before they could ask there was an interruption of the worst kind.

Another scream tore through the air, shaking him to his core. Frantically searching around him, he looked, but did not see anything. They followed the sound. He could hear other noises, not necessarily even voices but more like grunts and growls, as they got closer. Daegan pulled his sword from the holster at his back. He had no idea what he was dealing with but he would not be unarmed.

The men behind him followed suit with their various weapons, some with daggers, one with a bow, and another with a double-pointed spear. Groans and creaking seemed to be coming from the trees themselves. He felt the trees’ anxiety at their presence, but could not worry about that.

Looking deep through the cover of brush and smaller trees that they were hiding behind, Daegan could see what was causing the unrest in the forest. There was a group of maybe eight armed Ónarach surrounding something he could not yet see. The Ónarach were a race created magically by Elves mostly, but he had heard rumors of Faeries turning as well, by choosing to go against their nature for light and killing those with significant magic deemed as Elders. By doing this they consumed the magic of the Elders, thus transforming themselves into something dark—an abomination against Alandria and all living things.

These Ónarach were focused outward to prevent anything from stopping whatever it was they were doing. Still unable to see who or what they were surrounding, Daegan could feel the distress and panic from the nearest trees. He surveyed the scene. The Ónarach had gruesomely chopped down trees young and old in a circle, creating a rough clearing for themselves. There was a crack off to the side and one of the guards took a couple steps out of formation, allowing Daegan to see past their protective ring. All he could see was what seemed to be left of one of the older majestic trees of this forest. That must be why the trees were angry and in pain.

Daegan wanted to help, but he could tell his team was confused and restless. They let down the intensity of their hunt as if they were prepared to leave it alone; as if the trees of this forest were not worth fighting for. Daegan remembered that they could not feel the trees as he did. He gave them the signal to hold steady.

Suddenly he saw what seemed to be stalling the Ónarach on their quest. There were two of the grotesque beings of darkness with axes hacking away at a poor stump of a tree, but when they lifted their axes to take a break or to begin again, the tree began regrowing at an alarming rate. Daegan’s eyes got big in surprise; he could also feel the shock coming off of the men in his squad.

The Ónarach lifted their axes high in the sky to once again start the mutilation of what was left of that defenseless tree, but Daegan could not stand by and watch it be destroyed. A prick in his head caused him to flinch. His vision blurred, and there was a pinch in his upper left arm. Gripping his head, he tried to remain calm so as not to alert his men. The pain was strong, but he decided he was stronger—he would not succumb to that feeling. He pushed out from his core the energy of his magic once more, but was unable to clear the blurriness completely until he heard the female scream once again. Just like it had before, her scream tore through his very soul, simultaneously driving back the darkness that he was battling on his own.

He would not let this woman suffer. Daegan jumped up to his feet from his crouching position. He quickly hid behind one of the taller trees, ready for action. His men did the same, watching him for the signal. Daegan peered around the tree. Still not seeing the woman, he decided the fight would commence with the Ónarach either way; they were responsible, he felt it in his gut. Daegan placed his hand on his tree and pushed the energy of his magic into the tree. He focused on sending his intentions for good and to help. Oddly, he felt a response from the tree, almost an agreement. Fog seemed to suddenly be rising from the ground, seeping from the moisture in the mosses, creating the diversion he needed to begin his attack.

The Ónarach looked around the ground in confusion as the fog rose around them. “Hold the boundary!” one garbled, barely understandable. Anxiety rose as well as the fog.

Daegan looked to his archer. “Take one out. Then cover me.”

The archer nodded, but Daegan had already quickly moved to behind a tree closer to the circle. As archers do, Daegan’s backup prepared his bow, notched the arrow, pulled, and released all in one swift and fluid motion, striking one of the Ónarach dead through the center of his heart. It fell silently to the ground. Before any of the others knew what had happened the archer struck a second, felling him quickly as well. The other men in Daegan’s team were crouching closer to the circle, remaining in shadow until the signal was given. Daegan had crept ever so quietly and quickly that he was already upon the Ónarach off to the side and slit its throat before it had even registered the threat in front of it.

“Ferrishyn!” shouted one of the Ónarach in its gravelly voice.

“Only one, keep the boundary!” shouted another.

“Destroy her faster!” one shouted from the center, hacking at the tree that refused to be slaughtered.

Another swing of the ax. Another scream rent the sky, but oddly it did not come directly from the tree itself but further away. The fog continued to provide cover as Daegan weaved in and around the band of hunters and their evil intent. In the otherwise silent forest, what sounded like a bird shrieked a cry—a signal. Daegan’s men surrounded the circle in the cover of the fog. Another cry from the bird and the men attacked with a cry of their own...

That was the only sound that came from the Ferrishyn, to inform the enemy of their approaching end. Otherwise, they fought and killed in silence. The only sounds heard were the clanging of metal upon metal as swords clashed, the gurgling shouts from the Ónarach if they had time to utter a sound before death found them, and the panicked chopping coming from the center followed by the weakening screams of the invisible woman.

Thump. The sound of a heavy body hitting the forest floor with all its weight arrested the sounds of the chopping. The last remaining Ónarach stood gripping its ax and spun around to look behind it. Still surrounded by a fog that was beginning to thin, the Ónarach glared into the darkness beyond the mist.

“It does not matter. She will die. She is destroyed beyond full repair,” it gurgled out with spit flying from its malformed mouth and crooked teeth as its eyes were wild with terror. It turned back around only to come face to face with the eyes of a Ferrishyn about to deliver justice.

“I am not afraid to die at the hands of a Ferrishyn,” it garbled out with what seemed like laughter.

Burning flames danced in Daegan’s eyes, eliciting recognition in the Ónarach. “I am no ordinary Ferrishyn.”

Daegan’s sword had already pierced the creature’s gut with one hand, while the other hand flew outward with his dagger slicing clean through its neck, severing darkness from its host.

Daegan took a deep breath attempting to cool the fire he felt burning within him and to flood his own being with the coolness of peace from his inner magic. The fog instantly dissipated. The carnage left a gruesome sight and a foul smell. Seeing his men all intact and wiping the blackish brown blood off their weapons gave him a sense of relief. Yet something in his gut was left unsettled.

“H...e...l...p.” The faintish whisper that only the most sensitive could hear tickled Daegan’s ear.

It felt distant and then in the very next moment it felt like the one who whispered it was right next to him, though he could see nothing. He took a deep breath and looked to his magic, which often gave him an additional sense or sight that others did not have. Closing his eyes, he let the magic envelop him as it pushed into his mind and behind his eyes. Opening his eyes again, he suddenly saw hidden things in the forest that he had not seen before. Within many of the trees, a green energy pulsated throughout their trunks from the roots all the way through the branches and up to the tops of the trees. If Daegan looked with eyes to understand, he could see the forms of beings that resembled people take shape, hold for a moment, then morph back into the flow of their energy. He looked near the circle again, almost spinning fully around, taking in the same scene with the magic in his eyes.

“H...e....l.....p.” Weaker than before, the voice twisted his gut.

Where is she?!
Frustrated, Daegan, searched again, but still did not see.

“Where is she?” he questioned his men. His men looked at him like he had lost his mind. “Can you not hear her cries for help?”

“Master Daegan, we do not hear anyone,” Rôl spoke with his head inclined in submission.

“She is here somewhere! We do not leave until I find her.”

Daegan took another deep, calming breath pushing his magic once again—stronger—into his extra sense. When he opened his eyes he saw a large, wide-trunked tree directly in front of him but just outside the cleared circle. He could see the same green energy as the other trees, but this one pulsed stronger. The tree’s energy shifted and morphed into the being that dwelled within it. It beckoned Daegan to come closer.

Daegan placed his hand tentatively upon the bark of the tree, careful not to place it over the face of the being. He had never seen this magic before. It would have been awe-inspiring had he not felt the pressing weight of urgency from all around him. Not expecting to understand what was coming from the tree, Daegan tried not to let the surprise distract him.

“
In my branches, there she lies. Save her tree, or for good she dies.
” It was not words exactly that came from the tree, but more like the understanding directed straight to Daegan’s mind.

He looked up into the branches of the large guardian of the forest. In addition to the green energy of the tree he saw another shape high above. It was indeed the form of a woman. Her energy was not only green, but also brown, and it was flickering in and out. The shape of her hand fell from where she was cradled in the branch and limply pointed to the stump that the Ónarach had been brutalizing. Understanding gripped his chest. He placed his hand back on the trunk of the large tree and pushed his thoughts into it: “How do I save her? What do I do?”