Authors: James Wolf
Stealing a moment to glance around, Taem yelled to Baek, ‘Your Aborle fall back. Rally them to you!’
The Sodan’s two swords crossed over each other, removing a Krun head from its rancid body.
‘To me, Aborle!’ Baek cried. ‘For the forest! In the name of the Light, to me!’
Hearing this, the retreating Aborle pushed forward towards Baek with redoubled effort.
‘Now what?’ Baek released an arrow into a Krun chest from point blank range. The corpse catapulted back through the snarling mob.
Taem looked at his friend for a split-second, unsure, before he shouted, ‘Forward Aborle! For the Light!’
Taem surged into the Krun line, smashing a path through the enemy. Both swords flashing – cutting through the Kruns like he was going through a cornfield. Taem lost himself in the fighting. He defeated opponent after opponent, acting on instinct, relying on reflex and training. Baek was right behind Taem and more Aborle fought to meet them. Taking up the battle cry, ‘
For the Light!’
Captain Shandor Traylark watched, with incredulity, as the right flank of her army flooded forward. She was no novice to battle, but what she was seeing now was
extraordinary
. The mysterious countryman was more than a swordsman, he was a blademaster. Shandor had never seen the like of it, and she had trained with King Musafon himself. Shandor was brought sharply back to attention as a Krun axe came swinging in for her head. The Captain swerved aside, just saving her scalp by a hair’s breadth, and was again hurtled back into the churning fighting.
One of Taem’s swords thrust low into a Krun abdomen, whilst the other sword careered into its upper arm, severing it from his foe’s body. He was aware of Baek and other Aborle battling around him – but, to Taem’s growing anxiety, the enemy were far more numerous, and he was becoming isolated as he charged forward. Taem swept his right sword in a crescent motion, knocking a Krun’s spear from its hands. Using the motion of the first strike to spin full circle, he followed through with his left sword, cleaving the evil creature’s head.
Three Ugurs loomed forward to challenge Taem, snorting their hatred of this puny human upstart. Their immense bodies quivered with the desire to rip him into pieces. Taem saw their bitter hatred in their yellow eyes.
Taem weighed up his fiendish opponents. He could not match the Ugurs’ brute strength, in their thick arms they held heavier weapons than Krun would carry. They wore dirty clothes of black and stained red, and two wore crude mail shirts over their short sleeved tunics. The third wore a helmet with a viciously spiked crown, and a blood red shirt, with the rough black symbol of the crossed mace and curved scimitar on his chest. In that moment, the Ugurs glared with all their menace at Taem, but he was too fired up by battle to fear them.
The first Ugur charged in, and Taem leapt forward to meet it. Taem used Estellarum to block a hefty scimitar swing into the left side of his body. The blow rocked the Sodan. A different Ugur swung its weapon in the direction of Taem’s exposed back. Taem just managed to swing his right sword over his shoulder, pointing the vertical blade down, defending the attack. The Sodan grimaced as the muscles of his right arm and shoulder strained under the juddering force of the blow. Time slowed for Taem, as he realised he was in mortal danger. The third Ugur rushed at Taem front on, raising a mighty battle axe in both its hands. Taem was surrounded, his defence exposed, vulnerable! Danger! Taem frantically swept both his swords up in front of him, forming a cross to catch the heavy weapon. As he did he launched himself backwards. The force of the mighty axe-blow knocked the longsword out of Taem’s right hand and smashed him to the ground. But as he fell, Taem turned to land on his left shoulder and rolled backwards away from his opponents. Using the momentum of the tumble, the Sodan jumped back up on his feet to face the disbelieving Ugurs, holding Estellarum in both hands.
The Ugurs flashed each other bewildered scowls, how had the man survived? Curse him!
The forest battlefield was far emptier now, many combatants from both sides had fallen. Taem used the extra space and circled to his left, lining the Ugurs up so he could take them on one at a time. Taem heard the crashes of steel-on-steel all around him, but none close enough to invade his sphere of combat. Taem bounded in. The scimitar wielding enemy was first. Snarling and baring its great teeth, the Ugur jumped forward to meet Taem’s attack.
Their swords clashed in the north-west of Taem’s fighting compass. And in the next instant, came diagonally down and met in the south-east as Taem blocked. The Ugur’s brute strength was countered by the Sodan’s speed and technique. Taem went on the offensive, swinging high, going for the Ugurs left temple. The Ugur threw up a clumsy parry. Taem riposted a lightning second strike at its left thigh, cutting deep. The Ugur crashed to the ground. Taem leapt forward, twirling Estellarum over so he held his blade point down. The Sodan drove the point of the Starblade down through the Ugur’s mail shirt into its chest. The burly Ugur gasped its last breath, as the celestial-blue sword pierced through its heart. Taem glanced around, searching for danger and a fresh opponent.
The Ugur who had almost cleaved him in two lay dead on the ground, shot through the eye by an arrow from Baek’s bow. The third one had turned and fled, stomping heavy-footed and hunched over. The Ugur cradled its bleeding arm as it disappeared into the forest, an arrow protruding from its shoulder.
All of a sudden there were no more foes. Taem saw the Krun that had not been killed were all fleeing, back into the depths of the forest.
Aborle horns were blown in triumph, and a great cheer exploded from the Leafholme army. The yelling snapped Taem to attention, as if waking him from a daydream, and relief surged through him. His heart soared as the elation of being alive hit him. Taem felt he was taking his first breath, feeling the sun on his face for the first time. He felt reborn! The feeling of euphoria was so strong that Taem could not hold back from roaring in victory, as he thrust his sword into the air. Taem’s feral battle-cry was so loud that all the Aborle joined him in hollering, raising their weapons in homage. Taem roared in triumph again as he drove his sword point skywards, and he noticed for the first time how the blade glistened with oily black blood. Had he killed that many of the enemy, Taem wondered?
Taem wiped the slimy blood off Estellarum, leaving only the blue sheen of the Starmetal. As the exhilaration of victory faded, and Taem regained his composure, he took a moment to assess the situation. He was standing sixty feet from the main Aborle line with Baek and fifteen other Aborle, including three Forest Guard. Around them lay hundreds of dead bodies, mostly Krun, but many Aborle also.
As the Aborle warriors continued to celebrate, the Sodan’s wary gaze swept the forest for any sign of the enemy. The forest was still, but Taem felt he should not let his guard down.
Baek came alongside and laid a hand on Taem’s shoulder, ‘Truly, you are a great swordsman. You must have killed two score Kruns today.’
‘I only made it because you covered me with your bow,’ Taem smiled, clasping a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
The Sodan still watched the distant trees. Beyond the laughter and shouting of the Aborle soldiers, Taem could sense the forest’s disquiet. The enemy were still close. But Taem reassured himself that the Krun were beaten, and they would be fleeing for their lives.
‘Come on,’ Taem murmured to Baek, as he turned back towards Leafholme, ‘there are wounded we must tend to.’
Taem watched, with a heavy heart, as the fallen of Leafholme were carried away on stretchers by groups of sorrowful Aborle. The mile-long forest trail to the north of the village was queued with a train of funeral processions, chanting as they slowly walked to the village graveyard. All those Aborle had the hoods of their cloaks up, covering their heads and hiding their tears. If they were not carrying stretchers they held Mikeri, silver poppies.
Taem thought the Mikeri were akin to the red poppies that flourished all over Hathlore, but the Mikeri’s petals glowed with a metallic silver sheen and their centres were pure purple. These silver poppies were found only in places where the Aborle had settled. They were the funeral flower of the Aborle, and Taem had heard they aided the passing of the spirit back into the embrace of the Light.
Within a few hours of the fighting, Mikeri had sprung up into full bloom all over the battlefield. Taem could feel they had a cleansing effect on that place of death, bringing the woods back into harmony with the rest of the forest.
During the afternoon the injured had been taken to the community hall, which had been turned into a makeshift hospital. The Krun bodies were piled up onto carts and dragged well away from the village, where the vile carcasses were burnt in great pyres. After the carts had been used they too were thrown onto the bonfires. For the Aborle those carts would never again be fair, after they had carried such evil.
There were counted to be over three hundred Krun dead, and forty-nine Aborle. Forty-nine too many, Taem grimly told himself. Scouts’ reports said the Krun and Ugur survivors had fled back in the direction of the mountains. After such a devastating defeat they would surely not regroup to attack again, but even so a constant guard was maintained, and Warders were set to watch the forest around Leafholme village.
That evening a great campfire – called a Fire of Honour by the Aborle – was lit on the forest floor, and there was celebrations of triumph and remembrance of the dead. Around the roaring fire there were tables laid with food and drink worthy of a feast day, but Taem found it a sombre affair. The jubilation of victory was shadowed by the sadness of the Aborle deaths. Taem noticed how all the Star Lanterns had been shrouded in purple veils, so the village with bathed in a purple glow.
‘Purple is the funeral colour of the Aborle,’ Baek murmured to Taem, as they sat eating with some of the other Aborle warriors. ‘When the time for mourning has passed, the purple veils will fall. But until then we are quiet.’ Baek gestured at all the solemn Aborle around them. ‘First we lament, then we celebrate.’
Taem felt how sorrow hung heavy over the village. And he perceived how the purple glow of the shrouded lanterns seemed to deepen the gloom. Many Aborle kept their grief to themselves, but some were talking in low whispers, and some were even singing a mournful song. Taem knew the Aborle were a sensitive people, and he could see this ritual of quiet reflection gave them some time to try and come to terms with their losses.
‘I’m going to find my father,’ Baek stood up, ‘I’ll be back soon.’
Taem smiled at his departing friend. He knew Baek and Gerandel would be relieved they had both survived. Taem felt a great sadness when he thought of the many Aborle families who would cry themselves to sleep tonight, if they could sleep at all.
The Aborle Taem spoke to treated him differently now. They had already accepted him before the battle, but now they looked at him with respect, and even awe. Taem saw groups staring at him, which was disconcerting.
Taem made his way to the Fire of Honour, and was warming his hands as he thought of the brave Aborle that had given their lives, when Captain Shandor Traylark approached him.
‘The Aborle talk about you,’ the Captain gazed into the fire. ‘They say you fought like ten men today, killing many Krun with skill that few believed possible. You are an honour to your sword, and I thank you,’ the Captain turned from the fire and held out her hand.
Taem warmly grasped the Aborle’s hand, and nodded.
‘I did what had to be done,’ Taem said. ‘Besides, I think you’ve heard exaggerated reports.’
‘Modesty is an admirable quality,’ Shandor said. ‘But I don’t think any who saw your actions will forget your efforts today. I certainly will not. I owe you a great debt, Taem Dratana. So, whenever you have need of me I will come to your aid, I swear it.’
In the way Shandor spoke, and by the certainty in her eyes, Taem knew the Aborle warrior would honour that oath.
‘Do you know why they stare?’ Shandor said to Taem, as she looked at the other Aborle by the campfire.
‘Why?’ Taem glanced around, and saw that he was indeed being watched. He felt uncomfortable to be the focus of such attention.
‘They wonder if the old legends have returned to Borleon,’ Shandor said softly. ‘People beyond the Great Forest may have forgotten the Old Ways of the Sword, but the Aborle have not. Some say you are Sodan, others refuse to believe it possible – neither knows how to react.’
‘What do you think?’
‘I
know
only a Sodan carries a blade like that,’ Shandor turned from the fire to look Taem in the eye, ‘Now, every Aborle here is wondering the same thing, could it be possible that the Sodan have come again?’
‘I am Sodan,’ Taem gazed into the fire.
‘I know,’ Shandor said softly, ‘and it was by the Light’s blessing that you came here.’
Taem touched the hilt of his sword, ‘I live by The Code. It was my duty to fight in the battle. But we all won victory, together.’ Taem turned from the fire and spread his arms wide, to encompass all the Aborle soldiers.
Shandor smiled, ‘Come then, my friend; let us go and toast our victory with some warm Shirsa.’
The Aborle around the fire parted to let Shandor lead Taem away. Many bowed or dipped their heads as the Captain showed Taem to a table where Aborle were serving the drink.
‘It is a blend of fruits of the forest, sugar and forest spices,’ Shandor passed Taem a wooden beaker full of Shirsa.
Taem inhaled the sweet aroma, and his taste buds soared into heaven. He sipped the full-bodied red liquid, and the warmth seeped right down into his fingertips and his toes.
‘This is fantastic!’ Taem raised his cup towards the Aborle Captain.
‘The secret is in the spices,’ Shandor smiled. The captain turned to face the Aborle around the Fire of Honour, and said in her commanding voice, ‘When we drink Shirsa we celebrate our victory. We celebrate our lives as we honour the dead; we celebrate the future and the paths we will tread. We remember the days and the friends we have known; we give thanks to the Light for leading us home.’
When the Captain finished, over a hundred Aborle warriors raised their Shirsa-filled beakers to the air, and silently touched their right palms to their hearts.
A few minutes later, Baek and Gerandel joined Taem and Shandor as the purple veils were removed to let the Star Lanterns shine with all their brilliant splendour. At that signal the celebrations were launched into full swing. The quiet time for grieving had passed. Where before there had had been only the sound of the crackling fire, now a band played merry tunes and Aborle were laughing freely. Taem felt a great relief that the purple gloom had been lifted from Leafholme. He found the change of mood exhilarating. In mere moments he had been lifted from melancholy into joy.
After Taem had been given another cup of mulled Shirsa, the band stopped playing and Taem could see a group of the village elders had approached the fire. All the Aborle crowded round the Fire of Honour, and Baek motioned for Taem to follow suit. When everyone was settled an elder named Cibriel stepped forward to speak. She was a small Aborle in the twilight of her years, wearing a flowing purple dress, with long white hair and a placid demeanour. Taem sensed there was a deep kindness within Cibriel, and he could see the respectful way all the Aborle looked to her.
‘A great victory for Aborle-kind and the Light was won today,’ Cibriel said grandly, ‘the Krun have been defeated, and driven from our forest!’
A rousing cheer went up from the crowd.
‘The Aborle fought with courage,’ Cibriel said, ‘and some brave souls gave their lives to save our village,’ Cibriel’s tone became sombre. ‘All will be remembered. Their essence will remain within the trees for all time.’ She uttered the words dictated by ritual.
‘
Elliterati
,’ said all the Aborle gathered by the Fire of Honour, touching their right hands to their hearts.
Cibriel swept her arms towards the fire, and the flame of the giant fire turned momentarily purple, for the instant that eminent word was spoken.
Taem knew that
Elliterati
was a prayer-word of the ancient tongue. It roughly translated as “
Forever the Light will endure
”.
‘Well done to every Aborle that aided the war effort.’ Cibriel said, once the fire had returned to its natural colour. ‘Thank you to the Forest Guard, and especially Captain Traylark who led us so well to victory.’ The elder gestured towards the captain, and Shandor nodded her head in acknowledgement.
Aborle around the fire clapped generously.
‘A special thanks also goes out to the swordsman Taem Dratana,’ Cibriel raised a hand towards Taem, ‘who fought and risked his life in our defence. He will always be welcome at this village, and his name will be passed throughout the Forest Realm. From this moment on he will be known as an Aborle friend.’
Thunderous applause and cheering erupted from the crowd. Taem felt honoured to be bestowed with such praise. He was happy that he was able to make a difference to the lives of so many. And, most pleasing of all, Taem knew Logan would be proud of his actions.
‘No doubt the Lord of the Wood and the Queen herself will desire to meet you,’ Cibriel said to Taem, once the cheering had died down.
‘I thank you for your kind words,’ Taem said, ‘and I truly desire to meet your King and Queen, but I must be going. I must find my friends.’
‘The Queen will be disappointed not to have met you,’ Cibriel’s eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘But you must do what you feel is right. When will you be leaving us?’
‘I must go tomorrow,’ Taem nodded to Cibriel.
‘If that is what you must do,’ Cibriel dropped her head sadly, ‘go with the blessing of all the Aborle of Leafholme, and all of Borleon.’
‘Thank you,’ Taem bowed to the elders.
‘All go and be merry,’ Cibriel said.
With that the music started and the Aborle dispersed to continue their revelry.
‘I must speak with you in private,’ Taem said to Baek, Gerandel and Shandor. ‘It’s very important.’
‘By all means, Taem,’ Gerandel put a hand on the Sodan’s shoulder, ‘follow me.’
Gerandel led them to the edge of Leafholme, out of earshot of any other Aborle.
‘I may have brought danger to Leafholme,’ Taem murmured.
‘Nonsense!’ Baek said.
‘I’m serious,’ Taem said softly. ‘Nargs ambushed my friends and I in Stheeman’s Hill. I barely escaped with my life. I was fleeing north, when I chanced across Baek. The Nargs may be pursuing me even now. I’m sorry.’
‘Nargs have not been seen in the civilised lands for years,’ Gerandel mused. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ Taem said grimly, ‘I am Sodan, I know.’
‘
Light protect us
,’ Shandor whispered. ‘But they can’t be after you? Why would they be? Even if you are Sodan?’
Taem looked down to the floor, ‘I don’t know…’ Taem felt bad not telling the whole truth. ‘But that is why I must leave Leafholme, straight away.’
‘Did you bring the Krun here?’ Shandor said angrily. ‘You may be Sodan, but if you brought–’
‘Calm down, Shandor,’ Gerandel placed a hand on the captain’s forearm. ‘Think! That is impossible. Kruns and Nargs don’t work together. And the Kruns left the mountains before Stheeman’s Hill was attacked. How would they know where Taem was going?’
Nevertheless, the mere suggestion that Taem had caused the battle turned his stomach inside out.
‘You’re right, elder,’ Shandor said warily, ‘it’s not possible. But who are these companions you speak of?’
Taem hesitated, but he felt he owed them the truth, ‘Hirandar Firefist and Logan Fornor.’
Gerandel stared at Taem in shock.
‘
Light
,’ Shandor whispered. ‘You are the apprentice of
Logan Fornor
?’
‘I am sorry,’ Taem said softly, ‘I hope to the Light this raid was not caused by me.’
‘No Taem,’ Gerandel said, ‘it can’t be your fault.’
‘I’ll leave at first light.’ Taem’s shoulders slumped.
‘And I’m going with him,’ Baek put a hand on Taem’s shoulder.
‘What?’ Shandor said. ‘You cannot, it’s too dangerous!’
‘That’s why he needs a friend,’ Baek said strongly.
‘The Captain’s right, Baek,’ Taem murmured, ‘I won’t put anyone else in danger.’
‘Gerandel,’ Shandor shook her head, ‘talk some sense into your son?’
Gerandel paused, ‘Baek should go with Taem.’