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“Kaj, what’s going on? I heard you scream!” said Clarice, emerging from the cave.
“You wouldn’t understand! She was… she was here! She arose from the water; there was a silvery light, and then she appeared! I swear it!” he said muddle-headedly, pointing to where she had appeared.
“Calm down! Who was here?” Clarice took him by the arm, trying to calm him down.
“My sister…” He lowered his eyes. Deciding he had to tell her what had happened, he tromped sulkily toward the fire to warm himself.
“Did her essence appear to you from the stream’s waters? You are one of the few who can make that claim,” said the elf, following him there; she looked at him with equal parts admiration and disbelief.
“I have to tell you what happened. Maybe it’ll help with what’s been plaguing me.” He leaned over to pick up his old diary, and opened it to show Alana’s portrait to Clarice, who formed a high opinion of her traveling companion’s drawing skills. The young woman had long straight hair, a dainty face, a sweet smile, cheerful and deep eyes, and a contented expression. A delicate necklace dangled from her slender neck.
“There used to be trouble among some groups of criminals in Lochbis. Their dealings were damaging the city’s economy, and city guards often turned a blind eye in exchange for bribes. I’d frequently visit Freh’s ore market, though sometimes we needed other, more hard-to-find wares, so I’d go sometimes to the large market in Varlas, too. One day, I’d returned from Freh, tired and hungry. I couldn’t wait to get home. I wasn’t paying enough attention to what was going on around me, and a group of bandits attacked me. I fought back, but they stole a lot. The losses were substantial, and when my father went to complain to the guards, they told him that he should be thankful I was still alive.” He sighed. “Long story short: they tried to steal weapons from the smithy, but unfortunately for them, I was there. I killed all three of them. Once I heard the guards, I cleaned up the scene, and then I recognized their tattoos: they were the same symbols that I had seen on the bandits outside the city. I found others from the same gang and killed them without thinking about the consequences. Then, one day, I found a note hanging on the smithy door that mentioned Alana. I rushed home, and when I opened the door…” His voice trembled a little. He got a lump in his throat, and his eyes began to moisten. Clarice was listening quite attentively. Kaj got up to take a sip of water and try to calm down.
“Don’t repress your feelings; it’ll only make things worse.”
“It’s better this way,” he said. He sat down and continued: “She was dead.” His voice was still choked, and a tear ran down his cheek. “The note on Alana’s body read: ‘Eye for an eye.’ I found out to my bitter chagrin that one of the bandits I had killed was the son of the gang’s leader. If nothing else, thanks to that, the corrupt guards were arrested and hanged.” Kaj clenched his fists. “The message was addressed to our parents, but it was my fault,” he concluded.
“I never would have imagined,” she admitted, visibly affected. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Trying not to burst into tears, he asked: “How was Alana able to show herself to me?”
“Most of these streams originate from the glaciers of the Hallowed Heights. These waters are full of the ancient and powerful magic that can be found there. They say only those on journeys of self-discovery can see loved ones or benevolent spirits. Those spirits can show people the way forward, or warn them about some personal shortcoming or imminent mistake they’re about to commit. Some believe that what’s actually appearing is the essence of the god Luhreil, who takes on a familiar appearance, or that they can arouse trust in the person who sees them.” Her words did not cause Kaj’s anxiety to abate. He was still in shock, and he still felt Alana’s cold fingers on his cheek. “Whatever happened to me, it’ll take me a while to digest.”
“Cilna reminds you of her, doesn’t she?”
Kaj nodded. “Yeah… she looks a lot like her…” He was clearly upset; he couldn’t make heads or tails of what had happened. He had always been a realist and skeptic, and apart from magic, he had never given credence to anything related to gods and divine manifestations. Clarice respected his mood, and knew she had to leave him alone for a while.
*
Far from the forest, much further east, Sheera was busy distributing patrols along the banks of the Twinlakes. The marsh that connected the two lake basins had allowed some escaped slaves to reach what remained of Lochbis, venturing through the Whitetrunk and the grueling paths of the valleys of the Slumbering Peaks toward Falcon’s Pass. The orders from Eyjanborg were clear: they were to kill any fugitive slaves, along with the militia groups that provided them with relatively safe escape routes.
When Sheera arrived at Godar, she found some soldiers waiting for her. The highest-ranked among them presented himself, awaiting her orders.
“Is everyone here?” she asked.
“Yes, Commander,” replied the Chosen Soldier.
“Good. I will not give specific orders until tomorrow,” she yelled, proceeding toward the house that would have be her lodging. “Watch the beginning of the path that leads into the swamp, and check the nearby banks of the Twinlakes. I won’t tolerate any blunders.”
The soldier went on his way, and Sheera, annoyed and tired, holed up behind the door. Inside the building, the uggars had been waiting for her arrival for days; everything had been perfectly arranged. The sight of the food-laden table was quite welcome. Sheera put down her armor and weapons and sat at the table, devouring the splendid meat that the slaves had only lightly cooked for her, leaving it full of blood inside. She drank many a chalice of keb-brew, and partook of the grapes and berries that she so loved. She was sated when she could not even bring a small blueberry to her mouth any longer.
Just then, a knock on the door.
“Who in blazes!?” she shouted.
Quickly, a female slave went to open up. A messenger wrapped in a cloak and hood entered the house and handed Sheera a note. The tulvar read it and gave the male slave a glass of keb-brew as a reward, whispering a few words in the slave’s ear before sending him away.
An hour later, the Commander was in her room, waiting for the time designated by the message to arrive. She was swinging before her eyes the pendant her mother had given her. Sometimes it pulsed, and at other times, the light was more constant. Sheera could tell it was reacting to her mood. She had been the first female tulvar in several generations not to become a priestess. Forced to struggle constantly to earn a place in the military hierarchy, in ways her brothers Ramil and Ziglan hadn’t needed to, she learned to control her powers, and thereby stopped being an iveti (a so-called “wandering witch”)—she was now accepted as a warrior.
Outside the window, a sudden light flashed from the nearby woods, followed by another, and another. It was the signal—the hour of the meeting had arrived. She went to the bedroom door, and heard no footsteps or movements in the whole house. She put on her cloak and pulled up a large hood, before opening the door and scanning the corridor cautiously. Everyone was sleeping. With haste, she left the house, her footfalls light. The moon bathed everything in its light. When she caught sight of the trees, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“You may come out,” she said.
Three tulvars emerged from the darkness of the bushes. “We were afraid you were busy,” stated one of them.
“Why are we meeting earlier than planned?” asked Sheera.
The three looked at each other, and Enetor Urgal-Khun—a tall tulvar with extremely elegant bearing, the eldest of two brothers, and a member of Khelun’s right hand House (which was to say, the House of Sheera’s mother)—took the floor. “Datnu Turag-Khalin is dead.”
The princess burned with emotion. “What?”
“You knew he didn’t have the right motivation to go into all this. The Turag-Khalins have always been spineless. Not one of history’s greatest tulvars has ever hailed from that line. What matters is that she can’t harm any of us, now that she’s dead.”
“How did it happen?” asked Sheera.
“I killed her myself,” said Enetor. “Your brother Ziglan is in Banran now. His presence alone make her start raving. I killed her because otherwise she would have spilled everything,” he told those assembled. “It had to be done, Sheera.”
She knew he was right. “How did you justify it?”
“I blamed the human slave. I promised him that I would kill him myself without making him suffer…”
Zler Naled turned to Sheera. “We lost one individual to save the whole. Remember the rules you laid down: our goal is more important than any one person.”
“I know, Zler…” she admitted, unable to hide her soft spot for him. Zler was a few years older than her, and they’d known each other from an early age. Zler equaled Sheera in height, and he possessed a beautiful physique but also an angular face. He too was elegant, even if his gait and poise revealed he was a warrior at heart.
The last among them was the witty and bashful Rerik Irbhun. He was an important Archon of Athal, on whose shoulders the burden of all the commercial affairs of his house was placed. He was listening carefully, and thinking over his words. “Sheera, we have to decide how we proceed from this point forward; many are starting to get impatient… what do we know about the dwarves?”
“We know nothing for certain. The wall that blocks access to the Iron Plateau is constantly guarded by dwarves and the warriors of the human Brownbear Clan, killing any and all tulvars who draw near,” explained Sheera.
“Not to mention how isolated Vetmark is; every access-way has been blocked by the snow…” Enetor reminded everyone.
They could hear excited voices from afar: the sentries had sighted slaves. Sheera was forced to return to the city, and so the four saluted each other, and the meeting was ended.
VI
In the following four days, the journey had been relatively uneventful. Kaj and Clarice were walking along a path to a shallower area of the forest. The light became more and more intense, with the sides of the path hemmed by small ferns and shrubs. The trees were very tall, with huge trunks, wrinkled and gnarled. Meanwhile, the branches were entwined in an increasingly dense weave. A light mist embraced the area, and the humidity that made them feel so unpleasantly wet amplified the already bitter cold.
The path often changed direction and incline; they had been walking uphill for a long time, and the stream was now at least three meters below them. The vegetation was constantly changing, and they ventured from very dense areas to clearings and glades. The bend of the stream they were skirting was very sharp, and there they came across the first bridge. It stood out against a small waterfall, and sunbeams were penetrating the thick foliage of the fir trees, creating picturesque light effects.
“Does that mean we’ve arrived?” Kaj asked, hoping.
“I’m afraid not, but there’s a system of bridges and walkways ahead. They’ll help us cross all the rocky ledges to Nidath.”
“Well that’s a relief!”
“I was afraid I’d never see these places again,” she admitted, looking around. “Let’s get a move on. We can pick up the pace now.”
A little further on, the walkways kept crossing over the stream, winding tortuously to avoid the trees.
“These bridges were built during the time of the Great Reconciliation for the sake of pilgrims and travelers who, not being elves, didn’t know the forest. The wood they’re made of comes from ancient trees. I can feel their strength.” Clarice put her hands on one of the trunks, and closing her eyes, perceived its inner essence—or at least, that’s how it really seemed to him.
“You’re feeling its power?” he asked, intrigued. She nodded.
The wood of the walkway was dark, and covered with moss in places. The fallen yellow leaves created a striking contrast with the dark green of the trees and the bright green of the moss. The closer they came to the city, the more surreal it seemed—the leaves were fallen as in autumn, but the trees were not bare. On the contrary, they stood quite lush and leafy. During the first few days of the journey, they had braved blizzards; now they were preoccupied only with trying not to slip on the wet leaves.
Kaj was absorbed in his thoughts. Alana’s appearance. The things Clarice had told him in Fenan. Oloice’s arrival. The orcs that had attacked the village. Every one of these events seemed to be linked by some invisible thread. Eventually, he realized that he didn’t know who he was, or for that matter what he would become. All he knew for sure was that he could shape his own destiny.
Clarice’s voice jolted him from his thoughts. “Kaj, are you listening to me?”
“Err… I… I wasn’t listening.” He smiled, but realized that was not the appropriate response in this particular scenario, as she was quite annoyed.
“How about giving me a moment of your time? As I was saying, it’s not long now. The forest has changed a lot since the last time I was here, so I can’t be sure of our position, but if I’m not mistaken, we should be close to the Sacred Brume of Desail.”.
“One of your gods?” asked Kaj, interested.
“She’s the goddess of the hunt. According to the stories, the Brume is where Desail used to rest after her hunting excursions. Let me let you in on something: ‘Initiates’—that is, elves that are preparing to become hunters—learn the art of hunting from their Master, a position achieved after receiving the Embrace of the Goddess. Have you ever wondered how an elf can outflank their prey without being heard or noticed?”
“I always imagined it’s because of elves’ connection to the forest.”
Clarice shook her head, satisfied. “I’ll tell you a story. It’s said that, in the beginning, Desail was a distracted goddess. During a hunting trip, her arrow missed its mark, and the animal it hit suffered so much that its groans of pain shocked Desail’s kind soul. She then decided that none of the children of Efabi, the goddess of the forest, should ever have to suffer like this, and gave her hunters what we call Desail’s Breath. A hunter is only a hunter if the Breath accompanies them; it’s what allows them to get close enough to their prey that they can exercise enough precision to kill the animal instantly. A hunter does not want to kill; they do it to feed their people, so it is incumbent on the hunter to make their prey’s death peaceful. The hunter entrusts their arrow to Desail, and the soul of the prey to Efabi by reciting some words in the Tongue of Old. The Sacred Brume of Desail is the only place in the forest surrounded by a perennial patch of fog, hence the name. Some like to think that when there are small patches of fog in the forest, Desail is out hunting,” she finished, contented.
“Charming. These sorts of things aren’t widely known in the other realms.”
“I was wondering whether we could afford to take a detour… I’d like to go to the Sacred Brume.”
“I think we have time. Plus, now I’m curious to see the place myself.”
Clarice lit up, happy she had his approval. Kaj understood that it was important to her, so they left the walkway system for a fairly rough side path. After a while, stones about twenty inches tall appeared on the sides of the path, each carved with strange symbols. Clarice approached the first rock, touching the symbol with her fingers almost fearfully.
“What are these symbols?”
“These are words in the Tongue of Old. It’s a prayer that accompanies the hunter who goes down the path leading to the Brume, but I can’t translate what the words mean. It wouldn’t make sense in your language.”
The elf’s words did not surprise him. He made a joke. “Strange tongues and secret prayers! So much for the Reconciliation!” he exclaimed.
She replied in kind, with a pinch of dry wit: “This is who we are—what makes us elves. It’d be like asking humans to stop being greedy, but you know that’s not happening.”
“Hey! That’s a cutting remark. Not all humans are greedy, you know,” he scolded her, proud to be a human.
Clarice laughed heartily. “Please, Kaj, you don’t believe that yourself! I’ve never met a human who doesn’t allow succumb to corruption over a few tinkling coins!”
Kaj took after her example and replied in kind: “Sure, maybe we can be a tad bit greedy, but we have our good points, too. Besides you know a human who doesn’t correspond to your description…”
“Really? Who would that be?” she asked, feigning surprise.
“Last I checked, you never offered me coin to follow you on this crazy adventure. In fact, I came despite the fact many would have considered your arguments unconvincing.”
“And yet, you’re tagging along. My unconvincing arguments were enough to convince you.”
Kaj shook his head in amusement. “Okay, okay, I give up.”
Clarice looked down, laughing. “I must admit that out of all the humans I have known, you are the most likeable… at least so far.”
The man was taken aback. “Thanks. I’d like to say the same about you, but you’re an elf…” For a moment, he was afraid that came out wrong, but fortunately she understood what he meant.
“I know.” The smile soon left her face. “Unfortunately, among the noble families in Nidath, there are still elves who do not accept the Reconciliation and the sharing of their culture…” she looked up, and stopped in her tracks.
“There it is—the Sacred Brume of Desail. Follow me!”
A thick fog obscured the path, and Kaj saw Clarice disappear into it.
“Where did you go?” he asked.
“Don’t worry, come in!” she urged.
Kaj advanced forward, and after a few steps in the fog, he was paralyzed: a huge tree stood at the center of the clearing. The trunk’s knots and the curling of its branches reminded him of a woman’s body. Its powerful roots were visible in places; when Kaj placed his hand on the trunk, he felt the energy that emanated from it, and he pulled back almost out of fear. The tree had a bright aura all around it, and was surrounded by various objects: there were tablets and stones, engraved and decorated with elven symbols and words, and there were the beautiful yellow flowers that grew all around the tree. Clarice pointed out the skins, teeth and skulls of animals neatly arranged at the foot, all gifts and tokens of thanks left by the hunters who had received the Breath. At the center of all the offers lay a larger tablet, and above it, resting on a root, sat the huge skull of some deer-like creature.
“That skull… what animal is it?”
“That trophy, together with the largest tablet below it, belong to the Master. He faced his opponent and received Desail’s Embrace, and that’s the skull of a silverdeer, the rarest and most shy deer species of all the Shadetrail. If one finds you and guides you, and if you manage to kill it, it means that Desail has given you her Embrace; silverdeer are immune to the Breath. When the hunter receives the Embrace, they are wrapped in Desail’s invisible fog and can approach it without running away. When a silverdeer is killed, two of them are said to mate during the next full moon, to restore balance. These deer only conceive during nights of the full moon, and the birth of a fawn is extremely rare.”
“It’d be nice to see one…” The tale had Kaj fascinated.
“Don’t get your hopes up!” she replied, laughing.
“I was serious,” said Kaj, annoyed.
But Clarice didn’t heed his response. “Let’s go.”
They passed through the fog, and Clarice knelt facing the Brume, reciting a few words in Elvish before resuming the journey.
They were walking apace, but Clarice was forced to slow down from time to time to wait for Kaj, who stopped to observe the landscape and to catch his breath. She realized that her desire to get to the city was strong, and that it was affecting her mood. “Could you avoid stopping constantly?” she eventually snapped.
“I’ve never been here. These places are so beautiful. You can’t blame me if I stop to enjoy them a little,” he replied.
“We’re not here for the view!” she scolded him.
“The world won’t suddenly disappear if I stop to look at the forest for a moment,” he replied, annoyed.
Clarice took a deep breath before answering. She tried to ignore that. “Shall we go now?” Upon seeing Kaj had no intention of moving, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Get a damn move on! I won’t wait for you if you don’t move. “
“What’s the matter with you? I was just resting!” he said, worked up now.
“What’s the matter with me? We have to. Reach. Nidath. And you keep wasting time!”
“Then go, if you’re so impatient! I’ll follow the bridges and find the city by myself!”
“Oh sure! And after three or four walkways, you’d already be headed in the wrong direction!” she retorted.
