Ghosts Of Alfhaven (Book 2) (4 page)

When Turin finished his speech, a flash of lightning filled the room with light and a deafening boom of thunder shook everything so violently that pieces of vines and bark fell from their places in the walls and ceiling.

Sawain opened his eyes again and was standing before a trio of pale faced elders who looked frightened out of their minds. His body burned like fire, but he clenched his teeth and bore the pain. The room was silent as the grave.

Elder Orenias was the first to compose himself. His countenance changed to one of respectful kindness. He spoke to Sawain in a slightly shaky voice.

“I see now that you are who you say you are. Wait here. The Triumvirate will discuss your fate and decide what will be done.”

Elder Orenias picked up a small knife and pricked his finger with it. He stretched out the finger beyond the podium and allowed a single drop of blood to fall to the ground. A mass of white vines sprouted all around the three elders and enveloped them in a woven dome.

Sawain shifted uncomfortably as he waited for them to drop the barrier. He could not hear a thing. The dome unraveled after what felt to Sawain like an eternity. Elder Orenias spoke to him.

“
Sawain Thrallborn, you hereby have full pardon from the Triumvirate and all restrictions on travel within the hold are lifted. I want to offer my sincerest apology to you for treating you like common filth. Now, what can we do to help the chosen of Lord Turin?”

Sawain could not help but smirk at this abrupt change of attitude, “You can start by releasing my friend, Jatharr, from prison. He is an ally of mine and will be accompanying me on my journey.”

The elder nodded slowly, “Very well, consider it done. I said before that you may travel freely within the hold, but might I humbly and strongly suggest that you accept an offer of training to prepare yourself for the dangers that wait outside of the city? This training may prove beneficial against the Grey King as well.”

Sawain raised an eyebrow, “What kind of training?”

Elder Orenias smiled, “ If you agree, you will undergo the same training every ranger of the forest must go through before leaving the city as well. It is a rigorous regime that promises to be difficult, but if you survive it, you will have the leadership and combat skills needed to wage this war your path has been set on.”

Sawain did like the idea of becoming stronger, with the chance to learn the elven style of combat. He did not like the idea of going out on his own in that dark forest again without being prepared.

“Very well, I accept your offer. Thank you, Elder. When may I begin?”

Elder Orenias grinned, “You begin immediately. Report to the Rowan Circle Fortress to begin orientation.”

Sawain nodded, excitement replacing nerves, “What about my friend?”

The elder waved dismissively, “Yes, yes, the halfling berserker. He will be released and sent to the Rowan Circle as well.”

Sawain had more questions still, “And the threat from the Grey King?”

Elder Orenias seemed to grow agitated as he waved again, “We will reinstate the Outrider corps used in the last great war. When you are ready, you will be put in command of this elite force and may ride against your enemy to your heart's content. Now please, leave us. We have much to discuss.”

Sawain bowed low to the elders, joy filling his spirit. The promise of his own special fighting force was enough to make his head swim. He would gladly do whatever it took to become the leader this Outriders corps needed. He pivoted around and marched out into the hall beyond the wooden doors.

He was ready. He was ready to prove himself a hero, just as he proved himself a chosen of the gods. Nothing was going to stand in his way.

Chapter 4

Sawain rode along silently in the carriage Ilias called up for them as they jostled along the twisting road to Rowan Circle Fortress. A mix of emotion swirled in his skull. He was excited to take the next step on the quest Turin set before him, but something felt off to him. The way Elder Orenias shooed him away at the end of the trial felt to him like he was just a pest to the Triumvirate that could only be hidden and not stamped out. He was still treated as an outsider, even after Turin's divine intervention. He began to think that the gods of the outside world held little sway within the walls of Alfhaven.

He rode through the city for an hour as the cart and driver wove slowly through the rest of the traffic around them. He stared out the open window of the cart and saw that they were very close to the gargantuan thorn wall. The buildings were not as condensed here, though still present. Ahead of them, a large fort rose into view. It was a circular structure of grand scale that was made of hundreds of oversized Rowan trees that were woven together to form the mass of the walls. Sawain noticed it had a leafy roof that spread out above it, making the fort itself look like a titanic Rowan tree.

The cart soon stopped at the front gate of the fort. Sawain climbed out to get a better look. He noticed that the fortress was covered in large swollen nodes. He wondered what they were for. Ilias joined him and gave him a gentle push forward.

“Come along, Sawain. We have to get you to the director. The new teams were put together already, so if you have any chance of being placed, we must act quickly.”

Sawain nodded, still lost in thought. He followed Ilias through the gates and into the interior of the fortress. The inner courtyard was a beautiful sight. A grassy lawn covered the ground, much like the one in the Arborhart. A tower stood exactly in the middle of the round courtyard. It reached to the canopy above. Several training rings dotted the outer edges of the courtyard, filled with targets and training dummies, as well as obstacle courses of various types and complexities.

Sawain saw dozens of elves wandering the courtyard. Some were dressed like Captain Nerelis' rangers while others were dressed more plainly. Some were using the training rings, but most were lounging in the grass, talking to friends and telling jokes. From what Sawain could see so far, it looked like a pleasant place.

“
This place is the training grounds that produced rangers like Nerelis and his drones?”

Ilias chuckled, assuming the responsibility of answering Sawain's indirect question, “This is the place. It looks harmless enough now because it is resting time. No training goes on an hour before dinner until morning. However, for the fourteen hours between that time, this place is a nightmare for the weak.”

Sawain processed this information silently as he followed Ilias to the tower in the middle of the courtyard. He noticed the conversations stop as he walked by the groups of younger elves and felt several pairs of eyes watching him. He tried his best to keep his own eyes forward, but could not help a quick glance around.

As his eyes swept the courtyard, anyone whose stare he briefly met quickly looked away in embarrassment. The talking turned to whispers. He felt more like a stranger than a guest again. He was relieved when he stepped into the tower with Ilias.

Ilias led him up a spiraling staircase that lined the walls of the tower. The design was very similar to the main tower in the Arborhart, except not nearly as wide, and each floor was closed off by doors and hallways. They soon stopped their climb at the floor where the stairs ended. A single door stood at the end of the short hallway on this floor. It looked like a normal door with a brass knob. A wooden plank adorned the wall with an elven word inscribed onto it.

Ilias ushered Sawain to the door before whispering to him, “The Director of the Fort is just beyond this door. Be on your best behavior and only answer when you are spoken to. You thought Captain Nerelis was ill tempered? The Director of Rowan Circle is on another level.”

Sawain felt a lump rising in his throat and instinctively held his breath when Ilias reached to turn the handle. The pair stepped into a large office with green carpet, which reminded Sawain of the Dawnstar Manor, though this carpet was thicker and in much better condition. Bookshelves lined the back wall, packed full of tomes of different shapes, sizes and colors.

A large mahogany desk sat in the center of the room. Four chairs sat in front of the desk, and one larger, more comfortable looking one sat behind it. An elf woman sat in the comfortable chair. She was beautiful. Her blue eyes were set perfectly into her slender face. Her bronze colored hair  was clean and combed, tied up in a braid that hung across her left shoulder. She wore a blue silken tunic that fit her well. The only thing not beautiful about her was the scowl etched into her face. She put down the book she was reading and closed it roughly as she glared at Sawain.

“You must be the outsider I received word about. Great. I was hoping you wouldn't find your way here. Do you know how much paperwork I am going to have to go through tonight to get you on one of my recruit teams?”

Sawain shook his head silently. She snorted irritably.

“Of course you don't.”

Ilias came to Sawain's defense with a salute to the ill elven mistress, “Lady Tirinele, this young man has been chosen by the ancient gods to be a savior of his people. He--”

Lady Tirinele waved him off and stopped his protest, “I read the report, guardsman. I don't need a reminder. Personally, I don't believe in the gods of men, but apparently the Triumvirate do. How ridiculous... Regardless, their word is law, and I am sworn to uphold the law. I don't like it, but my hands are tied. Welcome to Rowan Circle, Sawain of Anvilheim. You're in room 37. Dinner's in half an hour, breakfast is at 6. You will be given your team assignment in the morning.”

She pulled a brass key attached to a leather string from a drawer and slid it across the surface of her desk. Sawain staggered forward to catch it before it fell to the floor. She studied him in amusement while he snagged the moving target. He straightened up and stared for a moment at the brass key with a long leather string tied around it. The key itself had a
pair of strange runes he did not recognize
etched into it. He
hung it around his neck after he finished looking it over.

Sawain stood there for a moment until she gave him the
That's all, now get out
glare. He bowed quickly and turned to leave. She spoke one last time as he reached for the door.

“
A word of caution, Thrallborn: Don't go flashing around your family lineage in these parts. You may not like the results.”

Sawain hesitated for a moment and stared at the knob, “Why not?”

Lady Tirinele sighed before answering, “You don't know about who your mother is, do you?”

Sawain pivoted around, staring at her warily, “What do you know about my mother?”

Lady Tirinele's brow furrowed deeper than it already was, “It's not really my place to tell you, but there's a lot of bad blood between her and the rest of Alfhaven.”

Sawain's heart sank. He had to know more, and if this Lady Tirinele had answers, he wanted them.

“What do you mean, bad blood? Please, I need to know. I need to know my history, her history.”

Lady Tirinele rubbed her temples irritably, “Look, child, I'm not your family's historian! You want to learn about your family, go ask your instructor about it. He'll have all the answers you could ever want.”

Sawain could tell her patience with him was wearing thin. He did not want to push her too far and risk being denied training. He simply clamped his mouth and nodded, then turned for the door again. He pushed the door open and marched out, trying to keep his own temper down. Ilias bowed to Lady Tirinele and followed Sawain out. He closed the door behind him. Ilias clasped Sawain by the arm with his right hand and gave it a quick shake when they returned to the courtyard,.

“
It has been an honor and a pleasure to meet you, Sawain, and I wish you great fortune on your journey. I must be getting back to the prison now. Lots of criminals to feed and all. Speaking of criminals, your friend should be along at any time.”

Sawain awkwardly returned the handshake, “Thank you, Ilias. I'm glad to know that there are kind people in this city.”

Ilias nodded and gave Sawain a warm smile, “Keep your eyes open, there are more here than you are aware of.”

Sawain returned the nod, though his heart was doubtful. Ilias waved farewell as he headed for the front gate, leaving Sawain alone in the courtyard full of strangers. He let his gaze wander around a bit to take in the entirety of the large fortress. He noticed several blue, glowing fungi near the top of the structure that gave off a pale light which made it possible for him to see in shades of blue instead of the gray shades he was used to seeing at night.

He wandered around the grounds and looked at the array of tools and targets scattered about the place. He could not help but notice how casual conversations turned to silence every time he came close to a group of elves. It began to get to him, so he finally decided to test his courage. He saw a group of younger looking elves sitting in a cluster on the grass nearby. Their laughter faded as he approached them. He noticed the group was made up of two boys and four girls. They all stared at him suspiciously, unnerving him a bit, but he could not back down now. He stopped a few feet short of them and gave them his friendliest smile.

“
Hello, may I join you? I'm new here.”

The entire group rose to their feet and dispersed. Most of them did not give him another glance, except one. One of the boys stood where he was and studied Sawain with a look of cruel intentions. He was the same height as Sawain, though of a slightly thinner build. He had wild dark hair that fell just below his shoulder blades in straight, matted locks. His face was long and his nose was crooked and slightly flat. A small scar was visible on his chin. His eyes flashed green, even in the blue light.

“You smell like a human. How can you even see where you're going in here? You should just go home before you get yourself killed, man-elf.”

Sawain opened his mouth to answer, but the boy turned his back on him before he could, and strode off, laughing at his own words. Sawain's temper flared. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists. He wanted to go after the boy and beat that superior grin off of his face, but he knew that would land him back in Deepglade prison.

Sawain sat down on the grass. He felt alone and depressed. He wished he could go home to Anvilheim. He wished he could be sitting around the dinner table right now with his friends. He missed Syd and Rylie's name calling battles. He missed Axel's boasting. He even missed Reisim's snide racial remarks. He missed Kyra above all others, though. He did not get to talk to her as often as he liked, but during his time there, she was a better friend to him than all of the others. Everyone else was so much older than he was, but not Kyra. She was much closer to him.

He pulled at a blade of grass while he reflected on Anvilheim. A familiar voice called out to him from across the lawn.

“Hail, Deathsbane! Good to see these elves haven't made an effigy out of you just yet!”

Sawain jumped to his feet. Jatharr strode toward him while he waved with the arm that was not in a sling. A large smile dominated Jatharr's face. The smile was contagious to Sawain in this gloomy atmosphere. He strode towards the halfling hero and stooped down to clasp hands with his friend.

“Jatharr! I heard they threw you in prison as well! Good to see you mostly in one piece.”

Jatharr nodded, “Aye, after we separated, I stumbled around in the darkness until I came upon one of these ranger patrols. They showed me some true Alfhaven hospitality and clapped me in irons then knocked me out. Still have a painful headache from it all. I told em I was innocent and should not be treated in such a way. They just ignored me and threw me in prison. I'm relieved you were able to get us out of that bind. I owe you again, my friend!”

Sawain blushed and shrugged, “I didn't do much. It was Turin who stepped in and saved the day. We'd be in much worse shape now if it wasn't for him.”

Jatharr pondered Sawain's words for a moment and opened his mouth to respond when a loud bell tolled from the tower. The elves in the courtyard all headed for a staircase that descended below the lawn. Jatharr nodded in the direction of the stairs.

“That must be the dinner bell. Ye'd best be getting something to eat. I know you must be hungry. I still have to report in with the Director to make personal arrangements. I'll join you tomorrow after training.”

Sawain nodded, “Be careful, Jatharr. That woman's terrifying.”

Jatharr winked as he turned to the tower, “Don't worry about me, I know how to handle old Tirinele.”

Sawain was curious about how Jatharr already knew the Director of the Rowan Circle, but did not have time to inquire. He watched his friend disappear into the tower, then turned reluctantly to the stairs at the edge of the lawn. He sighed and strode boldly to the line of elves.

His wait in line was quiet and awkward. When he finally descended into the chamber below, a medley of aromas greeted him that made his malnourished stomach growl greedily. At the end of the stairs, a long table was set up that ran along the perpendicular wall. The table held a wide array of fruits and vegetables and cheeses, as well as roasted beasts with fancy garnishes. Attendants stood behind the meats, giving those interested a single slice.