Tales Of Grimea (18 page)

“Sweet beer and sweeter grain!” his brother
had exclaimed, who had little time for patience yet was wonderful
at enjoying himself.

At that, their cousin had sighed. “Kind land
and kinder sky,” he murmured. This man was a thinker, and prone to
praying when he knew thinking wasn’t going to get anything
done.

The three men had gathered their friends and
families just before starting their work. With great swooping
strikes they axed the trees, with song on their lips they shovelled
and grained and changed the land, building a village. They were
circled by the magical forest and they could feel the effects:
Children laughed brighter and food tasted better. Flowers shone
with a light not present anywhere else on the continent of Veld
while butterflies covered trees like leaves and left the humans
gasping in wonder. “My brothers,” their leader had announced, to
many cheers, “We will make this place a home for us all, a place
where we can be safe and happy above all else!” Everything had
seemed wonderful, especially with how bountiful this soil had
seemed. So they called their town Erbhelm, for it was an
inheritance to be cherished for generations to come.

Of course, I had mentioned earlier that
Erbhelm had never been very prosperous, and now I shall tell you
why. Magical forests are always inhabited. Often these inhabitants
are friendly, and are willing to share and trade with humans.
However, magical creatures hate two things above all else. The
first is the smell of melting candle three minutes after sunset,
and the second is the dying cry of a fallen tree. Thus the humans
of Erbhelm had unwittingly invited mischief upon themselves. That
night it started simply, with pixies stealing things out of
people’s pantries. It had gone on for a few days and people began
to become suspicious after realizing that one could only misplace
so much salt. Then things escalated when an old lady, going into
her kitchen to fix herself a mug of milk, had been startled by a
pixie. She slapped at the poor butterfly like creature, making its
magic dust go dim and lightless.

The next day came goblins and dire wolves,
imps and salamanders, as well as many other types of creatures,
some which the townsfolk had never seen before. There were long
armed furry gasbys and the winged clawed tesmies and those large
dim gosts with their big yellow eyes. In order to combat the
invasion, townsfolk had to split their time in between fighting and
working their various jobs. In time they learned of the troll, this
forest’s guardian and cause for all their misfortune. The troll was
thrice as large as a man, with a circular head and powerful arms
and tusks. He also carried around a great tree as his club. The
troll only came out rarely but caused great devastation before
returning so deep into the forest that he could touch the
mountainside. He allowed most of the fighting to be done by his
minions. A slow war was waged for many years, with Erbhelm holding
its ground but being unable to expand. Things settled down a bit
after the log fence was erected, but not enough to give anyone
respite.

That was when Silver came. He was a man who
strode through Erbshelm’s danger fraught forest trails as casually
as if he were a beacon of flame with a sack slung behind one
shoulder. There had been determination in his calm, powerful
strides and his short ponytail seemed to hop about with each step.
He was dressed in light leather armour with linen poking from
underneath. His short beard was as neatly trimmed as his gait and
as silver as his name. He came from far west, and spoke with a
strange accent, as if his original language was extremely soft
spoken. “Hello,” he greeted the first person encountered, a
surprised guard, “How’s your day been?”

“Uh... Fine, how about yerself?” Hans was
bewildered

“It was wonderful, my good man. May I speak
to your leader?”

“Sure,” the startled guard answered
uncertainly. The road to Erbhelm was dangerous and travellers
almost never came, yet he’d never been instructed to keep humans
out. Besides, the man had a surprising air of friendliness about
him, as if he generally considered people to be well meaning.
“You’ll find Lady Aria in the central hall...” with that, Hans went
quiet and went to observing this strange man, his left arm firmly
grasping his spear.

“I assume I’ll find it, uh, in the centre
then?” asked the man, then added “My name is Silver Vermillion, by
the way. Sorry for not saying that earlier.” The two shook hands
for a second and Hans felt a tingle go through his arm.
How
strange,
he thought to himself. Usually it wasn’t so easy.
Remembering his manners, he then introduced himself and the two
chatted for a bit about the Erbhelm and how the town was doing at
the moment. “Oh, I know about what’s going on here. In fact, I came
by to help all the way from beyond Indellekt.” The guard scratched
his head under his spiked helmet at that, not knowing how any one
man could change things in this town.

Then he noticed the man’s blade, a short
sword belted to his left thigh. He hadn’t noticed it as Silver came
through the gate but now, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever
seen, curved as if drawn by a pen and glinting in the light. Its
metal was woven over itself yet it still held a terrifyingly sharp
edge. “You’ll have to leave your blade outside the hall, no weapons
allowed. Sorry about that.”

With that, Silver bade his new friend
farewell and went further into the town. He greeted people where he
went and where chats presented themselves, he chatted. Each time a
connection was reached with a person, Silver would reach out a
glove and shake a hand, sending that strange surging tingle through
his or her body. Each time he did, Silver was surprised at how
friendly people were around here. Back in his own hometown in
Indellekt people had seemed far more distant to each other.

Finally, Silver reached the central hall.
Listening to Hans’ and the other’s advice, he left Surge leaning
next to the hall’s door, along with the sack filled with his tools.
Both arched door portals were opened wide as a sign of welcome and
so the man strode in confidently, taking in the warm scene before
him.

The Hall was wide and made entirely out of
logs, from floor panels running along its length to tall standing
pillars and even the beaming. Two long rectangular hearths sat
cosily between dual long heavily laden tables with benches on
either side of them, populated by women and men both young and old.
Families spoke and chatted, then became slightly quieter as he
passed by. Between the hearths was a path running down the hall’s
centre, lined with runes, connecting the entrance to where the
leader’s table was nestled, proud and strong. Along that table sat
both grizzled and younger men and women, obviously wise and tough.
Each exuded an air of physical power except for the intellectuals
and the mage halfway down the right side. Those were this town’s
leaders, and each of them had started at Silver’s entrance. Perhaps
they could sense that he was a mage, or a swordsman. Such things
created an aura, after all. He stopped three steps shy from this
hall’s centre, waiting politely while having a stare off against
each and every of them. He went first down the right, then down the
left, gaining and giving acceptance as he went. There were men
boasting war braids riddled with beads, strategists eyeing him
keenly, and of course the mage, eyes almost blazing with lightning
and boasting a beard so touched by frost that it almost matched
Silver’s natural hair colour. With each sweep, Silver stopped just
shy of the table’s centre, saving that figure for last. He could
feel a pure and feral sense of
space
, something that marked
the greatest of warriors. Whoever this town’s leader was, Silver
could tell it was a warrior whose very physical aura reached out
from in grasping tendrils, asserting its strength. Then he
looked.

The first surprise was that she looked as old
as he, perhaps halfway into her twenties. Her golden strands had
many beads in them, marking her off as a slayer of ogres, tree
folk, and many other types of monsters. One bead was traditionally
added every ten kills, and she had almost a hundred of them,
holding two long strands that wrapped from her temples and joined,
presumably, at the back like a circlet. She was dressed in a skirt
of fur, finished off with grey leather and iron at her waist but
left loose at her ankles to allow freedom of movement, as well as a
matching vest going up to almost halfway up her neck. Her arms were
left bare for no show of strength, Silver understood, for she had
little more muscle than would be usual for a woman of her stature.
Those arms were unmarked by tattoos, and in fact sported nothing
more than twin simple armbands. In fact, the only thing on her
which didn’t seem meant to facilitate ease of movement was a
buckler attached to her left shoulder. It looked ornate, fixed yet
still made to be used, and was etched with crisscrossing wounds.
Behind her wooden chair stood a long slender blade, scratched all
over yet still in excellent shape. Despite her apparent lack of
physical strength and her average height, this lady sat there
leaning forward, her face resting on one fist, with the absolute
balance of a master. Full cheeks dimpled at him and her almost
delicate jaw made way for a wide kind smile that swallowed her
heart shaped face. The golden hair tucked gently behind her ears
shook. “Welcome, traveller!” she exclaimed, voice carrying like a
powerful piece of music.

Before he could even smile in return,
something like a lightning bolt jolted Silver suddenly, starting at
the top of his skull and travelling all the way down to his riding
boots, shaking him and driving the breath away. In an instant it
was gone, but Silver understood the significance of what he’d just
felt, and was sure the golden haired woman before him- Aria, was
it- had experienced the same thing. He could see it in her slightly
alarmed eyes, yet knew she’d felt no malice.

The man to her left, who was huge and had a
shorn head as well as arms the size of tree trunks, gave her a
disapproving look. “You don’t welcome people who don’t say hello
back, girl.” The man’s air of strength matched hers.

Lady Aria- who hardly looked like a girl to
Silver- shared a laugh with the man. “And how would you know-“

“If he’d say hello back? You wait for him to
talk first, bahahah!” Silver got the feeling they took his silence
as a sign of intimidation and were trying to make him feel more at
home. The large man had an enormous war hammer resting upon his lap
and slapped at it in his mirth.

“Oh, uncle,” remarked the woman, her blue
eyes already mid roll. Everyone else at their table sat patiently
and silently, as if these two were usually best left to their
shenanigans. After a few seconds both niece and uncle seemed to
settle down.

“I apologize for any rudeness, my dear lady,”
started Silver with a simple bow. “My name is Silver Vermillion,
and I wish to settle here.” Her eyebrows rose at that, seeming as
if she couldn’t quite believe her ears.

“Settle
here
?” asked an old lady
almost on the far right side of the table. She was obviously blind,
and had a piece of blue cloth tied around her eyes. This lady was
dressed all in purple and her hair spread from her head in thick
black ropes despite the obvious wrinkles on her face. “Do you know
about what happens here, young wolf cub? Don’t answer that,” She
added with a cackle, “I can tell that you do.”

Silver pulled at his leather collar. Spring
was still a bit away, but there was already no hint of snow around
and this forest had started to heat up a week ago, while he still
made his way. “True... Are you a truth reader, ma’am?” At that she
laughed again.

“I have a bit of the gift, but hardly need it
now. If you came through the forest, you’d sure enough have seen
the beasts.” At that, the atmosphere turned a little darker.
Children and families at the two tables by the hearths huddled
slightly closer, as if to protect each other.

Silver smiled and replied humbly, “Only once
or twice. They generally stayed away though.” At that, the entire
hall fell silent. Only the crackle of fire in the hearth
interrupted the stunned nature of it, and Silver could tell that he
had said something wrong. Even the children looked at him with
slightly upset expressions. Aria looked angry too, and it made him
sad.
I need to get used to this bonding business soon,
he
thought to himself. His master had warned him, back when he was
still an apprentice, but Silver had never expected it to hit quite
so hard.

“This forest’s beasts fear nothing,” the
leader started in almost a whisper, barely holding in her rage.
“Not even death. They rush headlong into it upon our walls every
day. Erbhelm’s combined might does not phase their determination,
and has not prevailed for many generations.” She went deathly quiet
for a moment, obviously aware of her rising voice and wanting to
give him the benefit of the doubt. With a start Silver realised
that they thought he’d been bragging. “Are you telling me that
you’re a greater warrior than all of us combined?”

“Oh no, I terribly apologise. They avoid
Surge, not me. I’m sure if your mage will inspect my sword outside
he’ll agree that any beast with magical senses would be quite
afraid of it indeed.” In a moment the elder man with his star
patterned robe and pointy hat was prompted by many bemused stairs
and made his way outside, grumbling that he was being made to do
this. Silver allowed the man through, sighing politely. The mage
turned outside the hall, a bored expression on his face, and
immediately gasped with a recoil.

“How... how the hell was this made?!”

At that, Silver smiled, glad that they were
finally moving along. It was uncomfortable to just stand there and
talk, but it would be rude of him to fidget or go to a bench until
given permission. Everyone around seemed taken aback at the mage’s
reaction, and Silver reckoned the old man was usually far more
collected than that. He could feel his quiet air of competence.