Far away and long ago, a hawk winged its way along an ancient migratory
path. It was high in the
sky, following the movements of small songbirds that were its prey and
its sharp eyes were even now seeking them out.
The hawk had been airborne since morning, taking advantage of
strong southerlies that allowed it to glide effortlessly through the
sky. But it was nighttime
now and the bird grew tired.
The forest below seemed peaceful and safe so it circled to land.
It was a cool, clear evening. There was no moon and the stars were shining so brightly that the girl felt she could reach right up and touch them. She was in a wooded area surrounded by the sharp scent of pine and a soft carpet of fallen needles caressed her bare feet. Standing motionless in a small clearing, she was surrounded by a perfect circle of towering spruce. There was also a warm breeze blowing, uttering a soft whisper as it swept through them.
All seemed peaceful enough, yet the girl soon realized that she had a problem. She was lost. More than that, she didn't know where she had come from either. No, it was even more than that she thought, for suddenly, and with dread comprehension, the girl realized that she couldn't remember anything at all. As if a curtain had been draped around her memories, she felt only vague recollections that had no form or meaning.
A sudden, icy knot of fear welled up, spreading through her
entire body until she was held immobilized in the towering grip of her
predicament. She was a small
defenseless creature held captive in a vast and dreadful wood.
She wanted to cry out in fright yet she couldn't utter a sound
for fear of alerting some horrific predator.
She wanted to run away and hide but there was nowhere her
defective memory could direct her.
There was nothing she could do, no action she could take.
The sound of the wind surrounded her as she waited for the
terrifying end that would surely come from the forest's dark and
sinister recesses.
But it was a comforting wind; a warm thermal that rose around her
and enveloped her in its benevolent touch.
A friendly breeze, it soothed her and seemed to tell her not to
worry, for she had nothing to fear in this place.
For a while, it caressed her softly, and as it did so, her fear slowly
unknotted, dissipating into the boughs of the towering
spruce that surrounded her.
The forest was her friend the breeze said, and it would protect her.
And so almost inexplicably, the girl felt her dread drain away,
replaced now by a growing curiosity.
Looking around, she at first detected nothing but the cool
darkness of the evening and the muted noises made by harmless creatures
as they foraged beyond the confines of the clearing.
All else was strangely hidden.
The forest itself seemed thickly veiled by a deep, inky blackness
that completely obscured the surrounding countryside.
But as she strained her eyes harder against the dark, she began
to see a faint light glimmering through the trees in front of her.
The gentle wind now blew against her, tugging her lightly but
insistently toward it.
Deciding quickly that nothing more would be gained by remaining where
she was, the girl began walking in that direction.
As she walked, the girl realized that the ground was steadily
rising toward a high plateau which stood out above the forest like a
lone sentinel, guarding against some ancient adversary.
Its sides were formed from chiseled basalt, rising over the trees
in great columns that challenged the forest's encroachment.
The top was utterly flat; a vast expanse of tall grass that clung
tenuously to life. The girl
could see a rough path that wound precariously upward, picking its way
among the basalt columns in a fashion that only a mountain goat could
follow. But the light shone
from the summit, and it beckoned her. The
girl paused for a moment, looking up at it, then decided to continue.
At first the trek was easy; the road was well marked and appeared
to have been recently maintained.
However, this didn't last long and travel quickly became more
difficult as the way grew ever steeper.
Soon, the girl was climbing up an incline that seemed carved out
of the very side of the plateau itself.
The path was quite broad so there was no danger of falling, but
the trees on either side had begun to thin out replaced by the tall
grass that she had seen earlier.
Thick and razor sharp, it proved a surprising impediment as it
scratched her arms and tugged relentlessly at her feet.
The girl could feel herself growing tired as her will to reach
the top ebbed, but the ancient forest was far below her now and she
could see that it stretched for miles.
A thousand rustling voices urged her on as the wind whispered
through untold branches. It
was an altogether magnificent sight and it filled her with new resolve,
so she kept to the task at hand and continued upward.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of climbing, she
reached the summit and stopped to catch her breath.
In front of her she could now see that the glimmering was coming
from a very old yet very ornate brass lantern.
It was hanging in a large circular clearing in the middle of the
summit and its opened shutters were held fast with copper pins at each
corner. The lamp was
polished to a fiery glow so that it reflected the light of a single
flame burning behind a large glass chimney.
By that flickering lamplight, the girl could see a number of
large regularly shaped granite boulders which were strewn randomly about
the clearing's perimeter, each casting a long shadow that danced
outward.
The wind was colder here too.
Blowing with a low whistle, it was the clutching fingers of some
invisible apparition as it tugged at the tall grass covering the rest of
the plateau. But suddenly
there was another movement, and her eyes were drawn to the two figures
who faced each other in the middle of the plateau.
There was an unmistakable electricity in the air now and the girl
could feel an enveloping energy as she quickly sought the concealment
of the boulders.
From her hiding place, she could discern the features of the two
men standing 20 yards away.
One man was large, dark, almost brooding, his bushy eyebrows punctuating
the sharp lines on his forehead.
His eyes were sunk deep into his face; glinting points of steel
that momentarily winked on and off as the light of the lantern glanced
off them. His clothes were
rough and dull; they had obviously born the toll of many days in the
uncaring wilderness. At his
side, slung next to his left leg was a battered leather scabbard about
four feet long.
The other man was slight, but he carried himself with a hidden,
unexplainable grace. His
deep blue eyes flashed with spellbinding intensity as he focused on the
man in front of him. The
lines of his face were softer, but also spoke of many days spent beyond
the comforts of civilization.
His brown hair fell in swirling masses about him.
Every now and then the wind would catch a lock and send it
spinning off on some careless path, only to reluctantly let it fall
back as the breeze died.
Without warning, the first man drew the sword from its scabbard.
The light from the lantern reflected the blade's cold blue steel
as he flexed the weapon expertly in his hand.
Still somewhat undecided, he stood there for a moment appraising
the other man. Then he swung
the sword high over his head and spoke something incomprehensible.
As he did so, the emeralds embedded in the weapon's hilt suddenly
flared with a cold and hungry light, piercing outward in an evil blaze
of green that momentarily outshone the lantern.
Almost gasping in terror, the girl inched further behind the
concealment of the boulder, unable to take her eyes from the scene that
was unfolding in front of her.
There was an answering flash of lightning and a deafening crack
of thunder as a single bolt of electricity leapt outward from the
plateau's basalt pillars and
crashed squarely onto the tip of the sword, bathing the scene in a
hellfire light. The girl
screamed, but her voice was lost in the crackling maelstrom of power
that engulfed the surroundings.
The weapon writhed, suddenly embodied with some evil life of its
own as the big man yelled and pressed toward the other, swinging the
sword in a mighty arc as he did so.
With catlike speed, the smaller man dodged the blow and turned to face
his attacker. At the same
time, his left hand instinctively darted beneath his cape and his own
sword flashed suddenly silver in the lantern light.
Moving backwards, using the defensive advantage of the stones, he
positioned himself directly in front of the girl’s concealment .
He was now almost close enough to touch.
So close, in fact, that the girl could clearly make out the runic
designs engraved on the sword's expertly honed blade.
They were ancient and incomprehensible, but nonetheless spoke
quite clearly of the power and grace of the craftsmen who long ago had
inscribed them. The girl
briefly visualized a strong and gentle people who must have once lived
amongst the trees below as the runes' hypnotic pattern played against
her shattered memories. It
was only with great reluctance that she was able to shift her gaze to
the sword's owner once more.
Surprisingly, when she studied the man's face, she discovered no
visible signs of terror.
Instead there appeared the anguish of a great sadness, masked but not
quite lost in the grim resolution of combat.
There was something else too, some unusual connection between the
two men and the girl struggled to discover it as her eyes shifted from
one to the other.
Again, the big man swung the sinister blade.
This time, the tortured sound of metal on metal reverberated
through the forest as the blow was squarely met and parried.
The young man sidestepped and swung backhanded, searching for
some weakness in his opponent.
But that blow too was expertly diverted; sparks flew as the dark
sword crashed down in a defensive tactic, sending the silver blade into
the dirt. The big man
grunted and prepared a thrust, but the smaller man had uncanny speed and
retrieved his weapon while darting to the other's rear. The silver sword
seemed to gather life of its own as he swung in a deadly arc at the
older man's head, his eyes flashing with grim determination.
Yet it was not to be, for the older man, showing the same catlike
grace of the other, sensed the blow and ducked, twisting as he did so to
bring his big sword into play.
The answering thrust was low, and it ripped across the young
man's abdomen. Only the
younger's instinctive defense averted a mortal wound.
The two men paused, circling each other like lions vying for a kill.
The older man was noticeably tired from the exchange; sweat was
beginning to glisten on his forehead, collecting and forming little
rivulets that dripped down the chiseled lines of his face and dampened
the hair at the nape of his neck.
The girl could hear the dry sound of his labored breathing as he
held his weapon at guard. By
comparison, the younger man looked tireless.
The silver sword flashed hypnotically in the lamplight as it
slowly arced back and forth.
His cape flowed behind him, catching the breeze which had turned even
colder and now whistled across the plateau with an eerie, continuous
scream. Then, with a start,
she noticed his eyes. Like
cold blue ice from the depths of the Arctic, they had locked on his
opponent as only a deadly predator's eyes could lock on the image of its
prey.
The young man suddenly jumped forward, covering the distance between himself and the other at lightning speed. As he did so, he swung the silver sword in a high arc at his opponent's head. The big weapon flashed up to parry, but the blow was a feint. The silver sword checked even as it was finishing its arc, and the young man, still moving past, slammed his right fist with deadly accuracy to the solar plexus of his adversary. The older man doubled over in gasping agony as the wind was knocked completely out of him, and the other, turning smoothly to stand behind, prepared to deliver the final blow. From behind the boulder, the girl saw with terrifying clarity the young man's hand rise his sword in deadly deliberation. She saw the runes on the silver blade flare as the fell weapon poised momentarily over its hapless victim. For a moment it seemed that even time itself stood still, bearing mute witness to the terrible event about to take place. But then, the blue eyes softened as if a distant memory had suddenly passed in front of them. The hand holding the silver blade wavered, then dropped. The young man gazed at his gasping opponent, a pained look of anguished resignation contorting his face. For a moment, it appeared that he might say something, but he turned to leave and walked towards the lantern.
As the girl looked on, the older man slowly and deliberately got up. His eyes, like cold steel in the light, focused on the retreating man, and taking the big sword in his hand, he suddenly charged in silent, deadly ambush; covering the distance between himself and his unwary opponent with practiced stealth. At the same time, the connection between the two men hit the girl. The unmistakable resemblance, the similar tactics... it could only mean one thing! Leaping to her feet, she overcame her terror almost without knowing and yelled a sharp warning. The young man turned, sword in hand and took in the scene as he braced for the impact. The two men hit shoulder to shoulder, their weapons pinned uselessly between themselves as the girl, no longer hidden watched in despair. The two sets of eyes, steel and blue, met and held, both still contending for dominance.
For a while, they stood face to face in this manner.
But quite slowly, like steam escaping from a boiler that was no
longer lit, the tension eased as father and son began to realize how
much the folly of their quarrel might have cost.
Then, remembering what had made the difference, the son glanced
past his father's shoulder towards the source of the cry.
His eyes fleetingly met a small pair of soft golden eyes framed
by long brown hair, falling in thick curls around slender shoulders.
She was almost hidden, at the very edge of the lamplight, and the
young man strained to hold the gaze.
But his father was talking and his attention was diverted.
When he once again sought her, there was nothing... the soft eyes
were gone. The girl had
vanished and the lamplight merely reflected off the cold granite
boulders that had once formed the perimeter of an ancient fortress.
For a while, the two men searched the clearing, taking the brass lantern with them as they trained their expert eyes on all approaches. Although both were well acquainted with the art of tracking, the two were astonished to find no traces of the mysterious onlooker... it was simply as if she had never been there at all.
As they finally turned to leave there came the sharp cry of a hawk as it rose again from the strange little clearing ringed by spruce trees. The hawk circled once before turning to wing its way northward and a warm breeze suddenly sprang up, gently helping it gain altitude. At the same time, the forest seemed to sigh contentedly to itself. Such a simple thing had happened... a slender woman willfully doing a small act of goodness to save the life of a son at the hands of his father. But the forest was an ancient thing, living somewhat outside of time as we know it, and perhaps it valued the importance of a king who had faced down and almost killed his only heir.
The hawk surveyed the countryside as it winged on, once again free to
continue its migration.
However, the wind suddenly veered as the bird passed over the high
plateau, forcing it to change direction slightly.
Now maybe it was just a trick of the thermals, or maybe it was
something altogether different, but as the hawk instinctively corrected
for that veer, one of her tail feathers was dislodged.
It floated softly to earth, landing on the path leading down from
the plateau and the young man picked it up absentmindedly as he walked
by. He looked up, gazing at
the hawk as it slowly dwindled into the distance, and wistfully thought
about the girl with golden eyes and long brown hair.
Then without really knowing why, he placed the feather in his
tunic. It was indeed a cool
clear evening with a sharp, magical scent of pine in the air.
And the stars were indeed shining so brightly that if you really
wanted to, you could reach right up and touch them...