War Of The Wildlands (12 page)

S
oft snow began
to fall over the Sycamore village. A thin white blanket was rapidly
accumulating on the forest floor. The weather, however, would not hinder Yori’s
lessons.

“Take off your shoes,” Darin said to Yori.

Yori looked up, puzzled. “It’s a little cold to go
barefoot, don’t you think?”

“Take them off anyway,” he replied. “You need to
connect with the earth beneath your feet.”

Hesitating, Yori stared at his grandfather.
Realizing that the old elf was indeed serious, he reluctantly bent down to remove
his shoes. The feel of the frozen ground beneath his feet was unpleasant, and
he soon felt the cold traveling up through his body.

“Now,” Darin began, “take that chisel and etch me
some fire runes.”

Yori grabbed for a piece of scrap metal and began
chiseling the runes he had learned for the arrow tips. After finishing the work,
he showed the runes to his grandfather.

Sounding disappointed, he said, “This isn’t right.
You have to concentrate more.”

Yori stared at him, not knowing how to respond.
Finally, he said, “I’m freezing. What do you want me to concentrate on doing?
The runes are correct, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are!” Darin shouted, losing his
patience. “You mastered those the first day. Now you have to infuse them with
magic. Otherwise, they’re just useless symbols.”

“I don’t know how,” Yori admitted.

“I’m trying to teach you, but you’re not
listening. You have to connect with the earth. Concentrate.”

Yori took the chisel and scrap metal once again.
Wiggling his toes into the cold snow, he tried his best to feel the earth. In
truth, all he felt was the cold. He began to etch the fire runes into the metal
and passed it back to Darin.

Sighing, he said, “I must not be explaining this
very well. Your father came so naturally by his magic that I never really had
to explain it at all.” He crossed his arms and stared off into the forest for a
moment. Just as Yori began to worry that his grandfather was too ashamed of him
to continue the lesson, Darin spoke again. “Close your eyes and listen.”

Yori obeyed. He heard Lem’s hammer as he pounded a
piece of metal on the anvil, a baby crying somewhere in the village, and the
hissing of a campfire as the flames competed with the snow for dominance.

“What do you hear?” Darin asked.

“A hammer, a baby, and a fire,” Yori answered
honestly.

“Don’t listen to that crap!” his grandfather
shouted, slapping his hand against the workbench. Yori opened his eyes and
glanced over at Lem, who had stopped hammering to eavesdrop. “Listen to the
forest. Tune out everything else, and listen to nature.”

Again Yori closed his eyes. He tried his best to
ignore the sounds of the village and find any sound from the forest itself. To
his disappointment, he heard nothing but the snow falling all around him.
Looking at his grandfather, he replied, “I only hear the snow.”

“That’s a start.”

Yori was surprised to hear those words. He had
expected to disappoint Darin once again.

“Try closing  your eyes and focusing on the snow
for a moment before you etch the runes.”

With a nod, Yori closed his eyes and focused his
ears to the sound of the snow. It was coming down harder now, and his feet were
quickly being covered by the cold white blanket it left on the ground. Opening
his eyes, he gave the runes another try.

Darin inspected the metal closely. “That’s better.
They aren’t glowing red, but they look a little shiny. I don’t think they’re
going to do anything, but you’re getting there. Why don’t you grab a blanket
from the hut and go and sit a while at the edge of the forest. Just try to
clear your mind and relax.” Yori started to leave when Darin added, “I’ll let
you put your shoes back on now.” He chuckled to himself as Yori grabbed his wet
shoes from beneath the snow.

Grabbing a thick fur blanket, Yori made his way to
the edge of the village where the forest became denser. He sat upon a low tree
stump and stared into the forest. His mind, however, had no intention of
relaxing. For the last few days he had studied the runes relentlessly. Nearly
every waking moment was spent staring at scrolls and memorizing which runes
created which effects. As he had never attended any school, he never considered
himself to be very intelligent. He was determined not to disappoint his
grandfather, and he wanted nothing more than to learn quickly and efficiently.

As he closed his eyes and attempted to focus on
the sound of the snow, his mind swam with all of the different symbols he had
learned. They flashed unceasingly in his head until he once again opened his
eyes. Before him he saw a world of white amid a dense, unending forest. Taking
in a deep breath, he closed his eyes again. Focusing with all his strength, he
still could not hear the sound of the snow. The runes had returned into his
mind and were taking over his every thought.

Feeling completely defeated, he placed his head in
his hands and stared at the ground. In the distance, he thought he heard the
sound of running water. Though he had found his father’s clan days ago, he had
not had the chance to explore the area. All of his time so far had been spent
in the smithy. Remembering his uncle’s words, he wondered if he was hearing the
Blue River nearby. His curiosity overcame him, and he decided to venture into
the woods to find out.

The snowfall relented as he pressed on through the
woods. He lost track of time and focused solely on finding the river. After an
eternity in the woods, he emerged into a clearing and caught his first glimpse
of the riverbank. Crossing the white field, he was drawn to its banks as if
hypnotized. The swift current bubbled and splashed as it climbed over the
unseen obstacles in its path. Closing his eyes, he allowed the sound of the
water to enter his soul. The runes no longer flashed over and over in his mind.
In their place was the image of flowing, clear water.

As he inhaled deeply, the fresh, cool air filled
his lungs. He opened his eyes once more to behold the mighty river before him. The
water was fresh and clear with a slight blue hue to at its depths. Yori could
not guess how deep the water might be, but it felt like it delved down into
eternity. Never before had he beheld a sight so lovely. He felt as if the river
itself had reached up and enveloped him in its waters.

Feeling more connected to the earth than ever
before, he knelt at the bank and drank a handful of water from the river. It
was crisp and clean and the most refreshing drink he had ever tasted. Slowly,
he rose again, taking one last look at his muse. Turning, he made his way
through the forest and back to the Sycamore village.

As he entered the woods, he felt like a different
person. Suddenly, the trees seemed to have a voice as they creaked and swayed
beneath the weight of the snow. The withered brown leaves crunched beneath his
feet, and a small, unseen creature scampered somewhere beneath the leaves. A
jay belted out a call high overhead, piercing through the silent forest with
great force. The sound of the river followed behind him, refusing to leave his
ears just yet.

He returned to his grandfather, a triumphant smile
spreading across his face. “I think I understand now,” he said.

With a nod, Darin handed him the chisel and scrap
metal, and Yori etched the fire runes into the metal once more. This time,
however, his eyes flashed green as he meticulously etched at the steel. Darin
inspected the finished runes and smiled proudly at his grandson. “Well done,
young man. This looks perfect.” He patted Yori on the back, and his eyes
narrowed mischievously. “Should we try it out?”

Yori remained silent, staring open-mouthed at his
grandfather. Quick as a flash, Darin tossed the scrap metal away from the
village into a soft pile of snow. As it buried itself deep into the fluffy
white heap, it exploded, sending snow and dirt in every direction. Villagers
came running from their huts to see what had happened.

“False alarm!” Darin called out to them, cupping
his hand to his mouth. With a wave, he dismissed them all to go about their own
business. Yori laughed in disbelief and was joined by both Darin and Lem.

“You learn fast,” Lem said. “I’ve been trying to
do that for years.” He nodded, approving of his cousin’s skill and returned to
his hammering.

“Now practice, practice, practice,” Darin
commanded. “And whatever inspiration you found, make sure you keep it close to
your heart. You’re going to need it with you for the rest of your life.”

T
hree elaborate
white coaches with scrolling gold carvings passed slowly along the roadways of
Ra’jhou. Lisalla and Danna sat in the middle coach, staring out of the windows
at the world passing by.

“How much longer until we reach Na’zora?” Lisalla
asked.

“They say we’ll reach the border in a day or so.
After that, it’s two or three days to the palace.” Danna could not count how
many times she had answered that question since setting out from home.

“Why must it take so long?” Lisalla asked. She stretched
her neck from side to side, attempting to alleviate the stiffness.

“It would be faster if you didn’t insist on
stopping at every market along the way, my lady.”

“I’ve never been anywhere before, and I may never
get the chance to travel after I’m married. I just want to see as much as I can
while I have the opportunity.” She gazed out of her window to see a sprawling
meadow a short distance away. “Signal the driver to stop.”

Danna tugged on a rope which rang a small bell
next to the carriage driver. In less than a minute, the carriage came to a
halt. Lisalla did not wait for the door to be opened. Instead, she opened it
herself and stepped out into the sunlight.

“I’d like to take a walk in that meadow,” she said
as her guards came to her side.

Danna followed as Lisalla approached the meadow. Swaying
golden stalks reached past their knees, forcing them to hold their skirts as
they walked. The ground was soggy from recently melted snow, but Lisalla paid
it no heed. Dirty shoes were a small price to pay for an adventure, and the
frosty winter air would not dampen her spirit.

“My lady,” Danna called, falling behind. “Can we
return to the carriage yet?”

“We’ve only just left the carriage,” the princess
replied. Ahead of her, a herd of spotted deer ran by. They were the most
majestic creatures she could remember seeing. She turned to look at her maid,
who was desperately trying to keep her balance upon the soggy earth. Sighing,
she walked slowly back to Danna and took her by the arm. To Danna’s relief, they
returned to the carriage and climbed back inside.

“I hope I never spend so much time in a carriage
again,” Lisalla said.

“You might have to visit far-off places once
you’re queen.” Danna smiled cheerfully, imagining her friend as Queen of
Na’zora.

“As long as I don’t have to travel by carriage.
Maybe I could travel by ship.”

“An adventure by sea,” Danna said, a dreamy look
in her eyes. “Let’s imagine we’re sailing off into the unknown. That will help
pass the time.”

“Am I taking my prince with me?” Lisalla asked,
laughing.

“I suppose that’s up to you, my lady.”

“Alright,” she replied. “I have just boarded a
ship and am sailing to a distant land. The boat hits a reef, and we’re all
dashed overboard. I make my way to an island filled with primitive natives.”

“Oh my,” Danna said. “Please tell me I wasn’t on
the ship.”

“You can stay home if you like, but I’m going to
see this island. The natives are tiny little people who have never seen a woman
as tall as me. They think I’m a goddess.”

“That doesn’t sound bad at all,” Danna commented.
“Maybe I’ll come along after all.”

“The weather is always warm, and the natives are
all very friendly. They only eat the finest fresh fruits, and they never
require me to sit in a carriage.”

Danna giggled. “Do they force you to marry their
king?”

“They don’t have a king,” Lisalla replied. “They
govern themselves, and everyone is treated fairly.”

“That’s very different from what I hear of
Na’zora, my lady.” The carefree tone had left Danna’s voice. She was truly concerned
about the kingdom where they would spend the rest of their lives.

“That’s only because Domren is their king. If I
have any say in the matter, Aelryk will make a good king. I won’t stand by
silently if he treats his subjects as poorly as his father treats them.”

“They are at war with the elves, you know.” Danna
almost whispered the words, as if some unseen elf might overhear them.

“I’ve heard as much,” Lisalla replied. “I don’t
understand it. Their king wants to expand his borders, so why not do it where
there are no elves? Why do men have to go around killing each other?”

“I don’t know, my lady,” Danna said. “Perhaps it’s
just in their nature.”

“It shouldn’t be, and I refuse to believe it’s in
every man’s nature. A man should protect his family. That doesn’t include
raiding other villages and killing innocent people.”

“You think the elves are innocent?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “What I do
know is that Domren is a tyrant, and he has no mercy for anyone. He expects
your full cooperation, or he orders your execution. I will not allow my husband
to rule in such a manner.”

“A princess is expected to please her husband and
produce an heir. He may not want your advice on politics.”

“He will have it just the same.” Lisalla tired of
the conversation and went back to staring out of her window. She did not know
Prince Aelryk, but she knew in her heart he would be different from his father.
Her childish dreams set aside, she tried to picture what her future husband
might look like. She envisioned a handsome man with dark hair and kind eyes. If
she found him to be unkind in real life, she was determined not to go through
with the marriage. She would run far away, even if it meant giving up
everything she owned. She would not marry a man like King Domren.