Authors: James Wolf
‘You cannot be serious, Gerandel!’ Shandor stared wide-eyed at the elder.
‘I am,’ Gerandel said firmly, ‘and my son will go with Taem. The Light willed for Taem to save my son’s life, and – you know, Shandor – the Light was with our young Sodan in the battle! I do not believe in mere coincidence here, there is something more at work. My son travels with Taem Sodan.’
Taem did not believe the Light had anything to do with the last few days, but he was grateful beyond words that Gerandel had spoken up for him.
‘As you wish, Gerandel.’ Shandor bowed. ‘If one of our own is to go out into Hathlore, at least he’s going to be with Logan Fornor’s apprentice. Baek, Taem, good luck,’ Shandor bowed. ‘Now, I must see the Warder patrols are doubled.’ Shandor walked off.
‘I am honoured you wish to come with me,’ Taem clasped a hand on Baek’s shoulder. ‘But are you sure? I don’t feel good about knowingly leading you into danger.’
‘Well,’ Baek grinned, ‘you need me. Without me watching your back, you’ll only go and get yourself killed.’
‘Well,’ Taem said sarcastically, ‘you did save my life the first time we met... Oh no, wait! It was the other way round?’
‘Alright,’ Baek chuckled, ‘I’ve not forgotten. I’ll pay you back, don’t worry! Anyway, I don’t really want to travel with you… you’re just a good excuse for me to escape and see Hathlore!’
‘Well,’ Taem smiled, ‘I’m looking for a hunter and a chef – and someone to carry my bags – so I’ll suppose you’ll do!’
‘It would be an honour,’ Baek held out his hand, and Taem shook it warmly.
‘The honour is mine,’ Taem dipped his head.
‘I have met Hirandar,’ Gerandel said, ‘she is a good soul. I have heard the stories of Logan Fornor… and I even once saw him, long ago, fighting Nargs on the Northern Border… You are an extraordinary young man, Taem, look after my son.’
‘I will, I promise. I’ll leave you two to talk,’ Taem nodded, and walked back to the party, which was in full swing now.
Taem was surrounded by laughter and songs, and people that were just so very glad to be alive, but he felt in no mood for celebrating as he stared into the Fire of Honour. Taem knew he should be as happy as all the Aborle around him, but he kept remembering the pale, lifeless faces of all today’s dead. It reminded him of all the murdered bodies he had seen when he was a child. He tried to push those horrible visions from his mind, but he could not. And now, he felt the agony of the guilt that his presence alone may have caused the battle. Taem looked into the flames and the sight of so much death filled his head. The hurtful memories that he had buried deep came rushing back. Taem was powerless to hold them off. He tried, but was crushed under their weight. Even in the midst of all the surrounding revelry, the memory of the slaughter at his village made him want to weep, but he managed to control himself.
Taem turned and walked away from the fire, back towards the battlefield, eager to be alone. He left the lanterns of Leafholme for the dimness of the forest, and saw a shimmering carpet of silver blanketing the floor. Taem thought that each silver poppy seemed to shine as a star in the dark night. He crouched to pick a single Mikeri. What a strange flower it was, Taem thought, as he held it close to his face.
‘Do they wait for you?’ Cibriel said softly. ‘On the other side?’
‘Who?’ Taem stared into the Mikeri’s purple centre.
‘The ones you mourn still,’ Cibriel said.
‘How do you know I have lost?’ Taem looked up at the Aborle woman.
‘My eyes have grown old,’ Cibriel smiled, ‘but some things become easier to see. What do you feel when you look upon the Mikeri?’
‘Sorrow,’ Taem murmured, as he slowly twirled the Mikeri’s stem between his fingers and thumb. ‘And loss.’
‘So why do you think the Mikeri come?’ Cibriel said.
‘As a monument to those who have gone,’ Taem sighed. ‘To mark the passing of the ones we love.’
‘Partly… but they also blossom to help the living,’ Cibriel nodded her head at Taem. ‘Their magic is to help those who are left behind to grieve. To help them say goodbye.’
‘My parents,’ Taem said quietly. ‘They were murdered by Krun
…
And I can never forget what the Krun did...
I hate them
!’
‘But will you let that hate consume your life?’ Cibriel said, and Taem could hear the compassion in her voice. ‘Will you let one tragedy beget another? You are angry, Taem. But do you think your hurt will be healed by vengeance? You have held onto that anger, used it, fed off it, grown so accustomed to it that you assume it is part of you – but if you carry on like that you will never be at peace with yourself.’
Taem glared at Cibriel, and felt tears welling in his eyes.
‘Do you wish to see your parents again?’ Cibriel said.
Taem looked at the Aborle with doubt. But on seeing the surety in Cibriel’s eyes, Taem nodded.
‘Then embrace the scent of the Mikeri,’ Cibriel gestured to the silver poppy. ‘Let the purple veil envelop you.’
Taem slowly brought the Mikeri up to his nose and inhaled. Its scent was faint, almost ethereal, fresh like the chill wind of a darkening winter evening. Purple swirled round him; covered him, shrouded him. Suddenly the forest was gone. He could only see purple. Taem felt as if he was flying, being carried.
And then he was in another place entirely.
Taem was walking through open country and the sun was shining. But this world was different, everything was tinged with a golden glow. Taem walked on through the fields and past the woods, and somehow it all seemed so familiar to him. He joined the road, and climbed with it towards the crest of the hill. He thought the farmed landscape looked like a sea of gold. Taem gasped. He knew where he was. A warm breeze caressed his face as he looked down onto his village. It was just as Taem remembered it, from before the Krun raiders had come. The houses, the stables, the inn, the church – all the old buildings seemed to glow with an inner golden light.
Taem strode down the hill and into the village, drawn irresistibly towards his old home. As he approached the cottage a great joy welled up into his heart. His parents waited for him in the garden. They stood by the front gate, arm in arm, smiling – as happy as Taem could ever remember them. He stumbled on down the street, in an incredulous daze, to where his parents waited.
‘It is good to see you, my son,’ Taem’s father beamed. ‘You have grown into a fine man.’
‘Where are we?’ Taem reached out to hold his parents; he was amazed to find they were real.
‘You would call it Alarsium, Taem,’ said his mother. ‘We have gone to the Light’s embrace.’
‘I miss you,’ Taem threw his arms around both his parents
.
‘As we miss you,’ his mother cradled her son in her arms. ‘But you still have your whole life to live, and it will be a good life, my son,’ his mother kissed Taem on his forehead.
‘All your life we have watched, Taem,’ his father patted his son’s back, ‘and you have done us so very proud. But I want you to start living free. Free of guilt, and free of sorrow. In your heart we will always be with you, but in the world we are dead, and you must choose to accept that.’
‘That is why you have been allowed to visit us,’ his mother said. ‘So we can say what we never got chance to in life; so we can say goodbye.’
‘I don’t want to say goodbye!’ Taem shouted.
‘You must, Taem,’ his father said strongly. ‘For your place is in Hathlore, and you are needed there.’
‘Fear not, my son,’ his mother said softly, ‘You will see us again – for we wait for you here. But – by the grace of the Light – I hope it to be many, many years before you join us.’
‘We love you, son,’ his father said, ‘and your sister and brothers. We always will.’
‘Wait!’ Taem pleaded, as he sensed the golden realm beginning to fade.
‘Live a good life,’ his mother smiled.
‘Always do what your heart tells you is right,’ his father said. ‘Stay true to yourself, no matter what.’
‘Now you must go,’ his mother said, as she reached out to him, ‘but never forget our love goes with you.’
‘Goodbye,’ Taem said as hugged them. ‘I love you both.’
Taem closed his eyes as he felt the purple veil envelop him, and he was flying once more.
When Taem opened his eyes the golden light of the otherworld was gone, and he was surrounded by the dark forest. He was aware of the sounds of distant merrymaking, and he saw the old Aborle woman watching him.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ Cibriel said.
‘I think so,’ Taem said softly. ‘Was that real?’
‘As real as you want it to be,’ She laid a comforting hand on Taem’s shoulder. ‘Some believe the Veil of the Mikeri allows you to walk with the spirits of the dead, where they wait for you in the last embrace.’
‘Thank you, my friend,’ Taem embraced the old Aborle woman. ‘I think you have helped me more than you will ever know.’
‘You are a good man, Taem Sodan,’ Cibriel smiled, ‘and you deserve happiness.’ The old woman bowed.
Taem gently pulled the old woman back upright and said, ‘You need not bow to me.’
‘On the contrary, Lord Sodan,’ Cibriel touched her palm to Taem’s cheek, ‘I know you are a guardian of my people, and I know what you did for us today. I gladly pay homage. Now, I’ll return to the fire, come find me when you are ready.’
Cibriel walked back towards the party, as Taem stood in the dark forest with the lingering memory of the golden realm in his mind. He felt a great sadness, but it was coupled with a great happiness that brought him almost to a smile. His last image of his parents was no longer their bloodied corpses, it was the joy on their faces as they looked at him for the last time. But just seeing them again had brought back the grief into his heart. And, once he was sure he was alone, Taem fell to his knees and buried his head in his hands, as a few tears trailed down his cheeks.
‘Thank you for supporting me father,’ Baek said.
‘I think it is the right thing for you to do,’ Gerandel put a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘It is almost as if you were meant to accompany him.’ The father’s copper eyes shone with a sense of destiny. ‘He is exceptionally skilled for someone so young, and of noble mind.’
A creature barked out in the forest, just audible over the band playing, drawing the father and son’s attention for a moment. Probably nothing, they both decided.
‘There is something about that young man,’ Gerandel stared out into the darkness, ‘in the way he holds himself. Something in his eyes. A certain nobility. I foresee he will go on to do great things.’
Baek heard the far-away wonder in his father’s voice.
Coming back to the conversation, Gerandel grinned to his son, ‘If I were twenty years younger, maybe I would go with him too!’
A violent howl pierced through the sounds of revelry. Both Gerandel and Baek swivelled, their gazes sweeping the forest beyond Leafholme’s lights. There it was again! Both Aborle spun around as they heard what had to be another beast – this time much further round to the north. And then again! Somewhere out in the east, on a different spot!
The merrymaking continued behind the father and son, but the forest was ever so quiet. Deathly silent.
‘Run!’ Gerandel roared, hurling his son back towards the great fire.
Taem sat in the dark forest as a torrent of emotion surged through his head. The Star Lanterns of Leafholme glistened a hundred yards behind him, and he could hear the singing and the band playing, but he was glad to be alone.
A howling whistled through the trees.
Taem looked up –
what the hell was that?
It was no wolf. Taem leapt to his feet and his hand shot to Estellarum’s hilt above his left shoulder. He stared out into the darkness. He concentrated on listening through the music of the party. He was as still as a statue. A rotten stench pervaded through the trees. Taem’s eyes narrowed.
The enemy must have seen him. Taem knew his silhouette would be outlined by the lights of the tree village behind. Shadows loped amongst the trees. They were everywhere. Dull yellow eyes crept forward, so full of malice and cruelty. Taem contemplated running – no! Some cunning Kruns had slunk up along his flanks and got between him and Leafholme. Taem cursed his carelessness, but it was too late for that now. The Sodan was motionless as the Krun encircled him. Trapped! Taem calmed his breathing, as he let the dark veil of night envelop his thought and hide his fear. The tune-filled revelry in the village behind continued on oblivious.
The surrounding Kruns pretended to cry, cackling to each other, and laughing and pointing at Taem.
‘Was ‘e cryin’?’ A Krun sneered.
‘Da we kill all ‘is friends?’ Another Krun cackled, and all the Kruns around Taem began to wail and pretend to sob, and laugh at him once more.
Taem let their taunts brush over him, as a wind blows over the mountain top. His eyes counted five Krun. His ears told him there were at least four more, their snarling breathing was but four yards behind him. Taem could feel their malevolent hate.
The distant music ceased. Taem heard screams and the howls of Krun slaughter in the distant village, but it was beyond his sphere of combat. A Krun snarled as it launched its gangly frame at Taem. Taem knew the Krun was coming before it even leapt at him. Estellarum swept out from its scabbard and cleaved the vaulting creature in two. The rest of the blighted beasts hesitated. That moment was all Taem needed. The Sodan bounded amongst the enemy, his sword flashing. Taem’s blue blade slashed through two Kruns before the others had even reacted. A twirling flick dropped another. He blocked and parried, fallen Kruns shrieked in the throes of death. Taem jumped, just tucking his legs over a Krun’s swing, slicing as he landed. He ducked as he deftly turned two enemy blows over. Taem shifted back as he swept his defence all over his fighting compass. The enemy swarmed him, but he danced amongst them: killing, defending and dodging. Taem evaded to the side and lunged forward, spearing the last Krun through the breast bone.