Darkness Falls (Tales of the Wolf) (7 page)

Graytael found himself wondering why he was telling him things like this but just tried to accept it. The old shaman was always doing similar things. Teaching or telling him something that only made sense at a later time. As is he could foretell the future and wished to prepare him for it but was unable to accurately describe what was coming.

They both fell silent as they entered a different part of the forest. It was a subtle thing at first. The trees were larger and older. The grass was greener and there was a lack of fallen leaves on the forest floor, almost as if it was eternally springtime in this region. When a herd of deer wandered across their path, Graytael immediately pulled out his bow and slapped an arrow across the riser.

“Don’t shoot,” said Anasazi. “All the creatures in this region of the forest are protected by royal decree.”

Graytael grimaced. “Sorry. Instinct.”

“No reason to apologize but we are looking to avoid questions and having to explain your reasons of killing a hart to one of the Royal Wardens would complicate that issue.”

Graytael nodded and unstrung his bow. That would slow down his ability to use it in response for any sort of danger but it would also prevent him from acting out of habit and offending the elves. Instead, he steeled himself to follow his uncle and keep his mouth shut.

  *    *    *    *    *

By the time they stopped, it was near midnight and Graytael was stumbling with exhaustion. However, the ancient shaman seemed unaffected by the long day of hiking. Turning aside from the path, Anasazi found a clearing and pointed to a campfire that was already laid out and ready to light. “Start the fire and head off to bed. I will stand watch tonight. We shall be on the road before first light.”

Graytael nodded and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. He had started hundreds of campfires in his short life but never when he was so tired. In fact, he did not remember ever being so worn-out after a full day’s hike. Little did he know that Anasazi had been using his magic to speed their
travel. They had traveled three times the normal distance in the same amount of time. Unfortunately, Graytael was not completely in tune with the Weave and it had sapped his strength.

After a few strikes with his handy flint and steel, he had the fire going and without another word, moved to one side and fell asleep.

The two ghosts appeared next to him.

“That was a risky spell to use Ancient One,” stated Eldath.

“True but it was necessary…both in bringing us closer to our destination and to force him to draw on the Weave for strength.”

Red Crow nodded. “You know what’s coming don’t you?”

Anasazi poked at the fire with a long stick. “Yes. I have foreseen several futures and no matter what happens in the very near future, there will be a time of darkness.”

Eldath gazed down on his great grandson. “The strongest blade must pass through the hottest fire. Only then will its true temper be found. He must do the same.”

Red Crow nodded. “But Graytael is our only hope.”

Anasazi took a deep breath. “Yes, but remember it is always darkest right before the dawn. No matter where his path leads, you two will be with him. That one thought comforts me.”

“And so it begins,” said Eldath.

“When Darkness Falls, only the Gods can foresee the outcome,” remarked Red Crow.

Anasazi shook his head. “Don’t be too certain of that old friend. The Gods’ fate rests in the hands of a mere mortal and his destiny is uncertain.”

Chapter 10

It was a few hours before dawn when
Anasazi awakened Graytael. The half-elf had expected to be sore and tired but was strangely invigorated upon waking. As he munched on a dried rations and smoked beef, the old shaman explained what to expect from the ceremony.

“When you arrive at the sacred grove, Eldath will appear and shepherd you through the actual ritual. Remember, no one else will be able to hear or see him and it would be best not to let on that you are talking with a ghost. Even in the Elven kingdom that isn’t a good thing.” Seeing his nephew nod, he continued. “You will take your place in line with the rest of the neophytes and present yourself to the Elder Tree.”

“And then what?”

“I cannot say exactly since I have never been through the ceremony therefore you must rely on Eldath’s expertise at that point.”

Graytael nodded his understanding and finished his breakfast. Gathering his equipment, he raised his hood and waited for the old shaman to rise. When he did not, Graytael cocked his head to the side in a silent question.

Anasazi lifted his staff and stuck the tip in the campfire. Speaking a word in an unknown language, the fire flared up and a portal opened up inside the flame. “Step through and confront your destiny.”

Judging from experience, Graytael knew he would not get anything more from his uncle. Therefore, he screwed up his courage and stepped into the flame. There was a brief flash of warmth and Graytael found himself standing at the summit of a small hilltop overlooking a glade deep inside the Great Forest. On the far side of the meadow was the largest oak tree he had ever seen. Without anyone telling him, he knew this was the Elder Tree. Even in the faint light of pre-dawn and the low hanging fog, it dominated the entire horizon. Wrenching his eyes from the Elder Tree, he could see hundreds of young elves calmly and quietly waiting in a long line. The ghost of Eldath stood beside them and beckoned him down.

Making sure his hood was up, Graytael carefully moved down the hillside and hopped in the back of the line. The young elf in front of him turned around and looked at him but did not speak. Judging from the lack of conversation, he guessed that conversation was forbidden or seriously frowned on. Even his ghost companion was silent, so he waited and watched. When the first rays of morning touched the Elder Tree, the yellow and red leaves reflected the light and looked like molten gold. It was breathtaking.

Once the Elder Tree was completely illuminated with the morning sun, the line began to slowly move forward. Eldath finally spoke. “When you reach the Beriadan, keep your head down and move quietly to the trunk of the tree.”

Gray noticed that the ghost had used the
Elvish name for the Elder Tree and pronounced it ‘bear-ee-ah-dahn.’ Roughly translated it meant ‘Defender of the People’ but outside of that, he had no idea what to expect.

As if he could read his mind, Eldath continued explaining. “But don’t approach her until the initiate in front of you has completely left the shelter of her boughs. Once you reach the trunk, place both palms on the trunk and clear your mind.”

“What happens next?” whispered Graytael.

The young elf in front of him twisted around and smiled at him. “I see you weren’t told much about this ceremony either.”

Graytael blanched when he realized that he had spoken aloud. “No, just that it was important for me to attend this ceremony.”

The dark haired elf grinned. “No worries, my uncle has told me all about it. The Beriadan will do one of four things when we present ourselves to her; ignore us, which seems to be the most common. Wave her branches overhead, which indicates a blessing and seems to be the next most common result. Occasionally, she will lower her branches to the initiate’s shoulder and bestow a special boon. And rarely, present the initiate with an extraordinary acorn which you then plant in a special grove nearby.”

Eldath added, “He speaks the truth.”

Graytael nodded. “Thanks.”

The young elf smiled and held out his hand. “Tûrin.”

Graytael shook hands and answered. “Isengrim.”

“Half-elf?”

Graytael nodded. “My mother was a Feredir…”

He used the elvish title for hunter. The Feredir are a specialized form of warriors in the Elven community that tend to range far and wide, rarely returning to Elfholm. This would logically explain the rest of his false back-story.

“…and was severely injured by Orcs. My father was a simple woodsman. He found her and nursed her back to health. As my uncle explained it to me, they fell in love and had me. Unfortunately with the coming of the next spring, the Orcs returned. My parents sacrificed themselves to protect my escape with a family friend.”

Anasazi had constructed the history for him and it was close enough to his own history to ring true. Sadly enough, there had been enough incidents like those that he told for it to be believable. It should also quell any odd questions he might receive about his lineage or lack of knowledge about this ceremony.

Tûrin seemed to accept his story and turned his attention back to the line of initiates. Nearly half of the elves had made their way through. Of that, most seemed not to get any sort of blessing from the ancient tree but twelve received the special blessing of the Beriadan’s waving branches overhead. It was a strange thing to watch the faces of those select few as they walked from the grove. The only word Graytael could use to describe it was dumbfounded.

Finally it was Tûrin’s turn. The young elf walked calmly to the base of the Elder Tree and placed his hands on the trunk.

Graytael glanced from Tûrin to the rest of the waiting initiates. They were all watching also. When he looked back, he could see the branches of the great tree waving. If there had been any wind, he would’ve dismissed it as that but since there wasn’t even the hint of a breeze, it had to be the Beriadan. Then, ever so slowly one of the great branches which was as large as his leg, bent in an unnatural angle to touch Tûrin on the shoulder. He had received the special boon and had the same astonished look as he departed the grove.

If Gray did not know better, it seemed as if Tûrin was glowing slightly when he joined the others. Then, it was his turn. Following Eldath’s directions, Gray kept his head lowered and hood up as he moved slowly under the immense boughs of the ancient tree. A peaceful, soothing feeling came over him the moment he stepped within its radius. Reaching the vast trunk, he placed his hands on the bark and noted that it was warm and dry. As he cleared his mind, he was shocked to hear a faint voice deep inside his head.

“Greetings Chosen One, I have been expecting you for many, many years.”

Shocked, Graytael whispered his answer. “You know who I am?”

“Yes. You are Graytael, the son of Tatianna Amarth and Kamots Hawkeye. You have the blood of heroes and gods in your veins, yet you do not know your true strength.”

“I’m sorry great one. I have no idea what you mean.”

“Of course not, you are a mere mortal while I am eternal. I have seen hundreds of thousands of sunrises and sunsets. I have been here since the beginning of the world and I will be here at its end. I was but a sapling when Terra awakened me and explained my destiny. I stand here as a silent sentinel of her will.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“Do not worry seedling, you will…one day. Know that the fate of the world balances on the edge of a blade. Your actions will influence the destiny of everyone on Terreth, be he or she as small as a snail or as large as a dragon. Even though it is true, fate is not yours to decide. You are naught but the seed, the Nine will be the tree. But without the seed, the tree cannot come into being.”

Graytael had no idea what the tree was talking about but tried his best to absorb the message.

“When the Darkness returns from whence it was banished and the Gods are helpless to act, look to the north for the Chosen One; a being of no race and all races, part black, part white, a creature of the balance, a true son of the Dhyana. He will lead the Nine against the One in the final battle for the fate of Terreth…for only he can unlock the secrets of the past.”

“I have heard that prophecy before.”

“I would hope so since it is about you but have you ever thought about who are the Nine? And what secrets the prophecy is referring to?”

“Yes Great One, I have…many times. Do you have any hints?”

“Just two pieces of advice… trust is earned, not given and do not judge a tree by its leaves.”

Before Graytael could ask any more questions, he felt something come out of the bark and push itself into his right hand.

“Take this. Follow the directions of the Wardens. With luck and the blessings of the Dhyana, I will see you again. Farewell Chosen One.”

Graytael opened his eyes and walked from the clearing. Everyone was watching him, including three grim faced elven warriors in green tinted chainmail armor and silver wing-swept helms.

Tûrin slapped him on the shoulder. “Isengrim, are you okay?”

Graytael cocked his head to the side and finally looked down at his hand. Tûrin followed his gaze and inhaled sharply when the half-elf opened his fist to reveal a golden acorn. Judging from everyone’s actions, it must have been a rarer event than Tûrin had led him to believe.

Even the three Wardens seemed shocked. One of them stepped forward and reached for the acorn.

Graytael reacted out of instinct, closed his hand and jerked it away.

“Where did you get that half-breed?”

“The Beriadan gave it to me.”

The loudmouth Warden looked over at his fellow soldiers and laughed. “That’s impossible. She hasn’t blessed anyone with an acorn in over a hundred years and never a half-breed.”

One of the Wardens stepped forward and confronted the braggart. “No Jactatör, I know what I saw. The Beriadan gave this young man her blessing and we must do our duty.”

“But Iauron, he’s a half-breed.”

Graytael’s defender shrugged his shoulders. “It is not my place to question the Beriadan but to watch over her and guide those she chooses.”

“But he’s not a true blood.”

Iauron stood tall and calmly reached over to the loudmouth’s armor and pulled free a small pin of a golden oak leaf. “Jactatör, you are hereby relieved of your duties to the Beriadan. Report back to the garrison for reassignment.”

The rude warrior looked astonished at first but then anger filled his eyes. “You can’t do that.”

Iauron simply turned his back and said over his shoulder. “I just did. If you have any problems with my decision you can take them up with Commander Khlekluëllin.”

Graytael nearly flinched at the name. Even the elf’s fluid speech seemed to trip over the odd sounding name. He had pronounced it as Klik-
kloo
-el-uhn. He knew from stories Rjurik had told him of his parents that Khlekluëllin was one of his mother’s twin brothers and a great friend of his father’s. He’d questioned Anasazi several times about his uncles and had been warned that he was not to meet with them if at all possible in fear that they might recognize his true heritage. However, the threat of confronting his uncle must have been enough for the rude Warden. He stalked away muttering to himself after shooting Graytael a dark look.

The polite Warden did not watch him leave but turned back to the young half-elf and his face softened. “I’m sorry about that Isengrim. Jactatör has never been a true believer and only took this post to further his political future.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been called worse.”

“I can imagine.” Iauron gestured for him to follow and began walking.

Gray matched his stride, subconsciously aware that ten of the initiates and the ghost of Eldath fell in behind.

“You must understand those the Beriadan doesn’t talk to find it hard to believe in her power.”

Gray looked up quickly. “It talked to you also?”

Iauron gestured to those around him. “Yes, several decades ago when I presented myself to the Beriadan and received her blessing she spoke to me.”

Graytael looked around at the young elves accompanying them. He made a mental note that Tûrin was among them but no one else was holding a golden acorn. “And this?”

“No, I am like those around you. I received the blessing but not the gift. Her acorn is very rare. The last initiate to receive one that I know of was our Commander.”

“Khlekluëllin?” Graytael did his best to pronounce it correctly.

“Yes. I see that you pay attention. That’s good.” Iauron smiled and turned off the path but stopped at the edge of a small grove of saplings. “This is the Nemeton, the Sacred Grove. It is for you to enter, not us.”

“But what do I do inside?”

Iauron smiled. “Listen to Terra. Even though her favorite daughter Aurora is trapped she will still speak to you through her other children.”

More confused than before, Gray took a step inside and felt an overwhelming sense of peace flow over him. The ghost of Eldath walked with him but kept silent. Gray weaved in and out of the trees until he came to the center of the grove. Standing there was a beautiful red-tailed hawk. Instead of flying off, it chirped at him and scratched the ground with its talons.

Eldath finally spoke. “Listen to the hawk. Let it guide you.”