Lost Legacies Slayer's Sorrow

Chapter Four

The Wise One of Elder Forest

Symone trudged along happily. He was in such a good mood. He did not know why, nor did he really know why he was following along with these strangers that he just met. The more he thought about it, the more it perplexed him. Why did he care for Zeke so much? They had just met, but there was something about him that really made Symone want to help him.

The woods had gone from being tinged by the grey of Ikhor to being pure black. It was as if the small rays of light that made their way through the thick canopy above were immediately absorbed by the dark, damp looking tree trunks. Zeke was a few yards ahead speaking with one of the two Darklings that had appeared when Symone had first encountered him. They spoke back in forth in what seemed to be excited tones, but they spoke in another tongue, one that Symone had never heard before, and he could not make out a single word of it. The female Darkling walked silently by his side. Her steps made no sound, though there was plentiful debris littering the forest floor. Symone’s steps on the other hand, despite his best efforts, seemed to echo with each footfall.

He listened to each step. He went from feeling awkward about their volume, to being entranced by their rhythm. Step, step, step, step, step, step, step. A warm shudder went up his spine and he stopped in his tracks. He didn’t want to go with Zeke. What had he been thinking? The woman beside him had stopped and she called out in the strange tongue to Zeke. Panic overwhelmed Symone as he realized that he had now certainly lost Daylinn’s trail. He was visibly bothered and Zeke turned to him and closed the distance between them at a quick pace. He touched Symone gently with one hand upon his arm. He looked into Symone’s eyes and spoke words that settled all of Symone’s anxious thoughts.

“It is truly right and best if you come with us, Symone.”

A warmth covered Symone once again. He had been all worked up over nothing. He began walking again, as quietly as he could, and Zeke continued his conversation with the other Darkling.

“What an interesting part of the forest,” Symone said aloud to the female Darkling on his left.

After a moment of silence “It was once much better,” she said in a depressing tone.

“Why?” Symone asked thoughtfully.

“You will find out soon enough,” she replied. “We are almost there.”

“Almost where?” Symone asked.

“To the wise one of Elder Forest,” she said. “You are very fortunate that Zeke is the one who found you instead of another sentinel.” She noticed the look of utter confusion on Symone’s face. “Zeke is a great leader and the best among our people. Sentinels are those who are put in charge over others who protect and gather information for… for our master.”

“Who is your master?” Symone interrupted.

“He is a demon. He seeks only that which brings him power and territory, but Zeke is different and he will not obey blindly. But our master already suspects this of Zeke and now distrusts all the Darklings.”

“Your master is not a Darkling?” Symone asked.

“No.” She replied. “He is…” she hesitated “he is something else.”

“And what is your name?” Symone asked.

“I am Syla” she said. “It is a pleasure to meet you… human?”

“My name is Symone” he said.

“It is a pleasure to meet you… Symone. I do not believe you are here by accident. The wise one has foretold of your coming. As I was saying, it is good that Zeke is the one who found you. He will take you to the wise one and things are finally about to change for the better. If anyone else would have found you first then your destination would be…”

The female Darkling’s eyes widened as she came to the realization that an arrow had just whizzed through the trees and was now sticking into her neck. Blood gurgled in her throat. As she tried to speak, three more arrows pierced through her armor from every side. She fell to the ground. Symone was slow to react. Something was slowing his thoughts and actions, but Zeke had two swords drawn and was already searching the trees. The Darkling beside him had a two-handed sword drawn a moment later and came to stand in front of Symone.

“Quickly, draw your blade,” Zeke said to Symone forcefully and Symone found himself able to move to draw his sword now much more quickly.

Zeke spoke again, “You are well able to defend thyself as you have already shown in escaping the grip of Ikhor.” Symone found himself encouraged and ready to face whatever foe lie hidden in the trees. That is, until they came into sight.

From the dense wood came grey skinned creatures with large black glossy eyes. Their arms were muscular and seemed to be unnaturally long for their bodies. They seemed as if they would drag across the ground as they walked. They emerged from every direction. Some of them had great bows to match their reach, but the majority of the brutes carried iron, saw bladed swords. They appeared to be sharp only on the jagged side. Symone was ready to die protecting his new friends. He knew those with bows, posed the largest threat. No matter how good of swordsmen the others were, the bowmen would pick the three of them off while they were distracted. Symone wracked his brain as to how he could maneuver past the swordsmen to those who had bows, when he seen three of them drop from daggers to the chest. Zeke had sheathed one of his swords and thrown a series of daggers, taking down three of the four bowmen in an instant. Symone made a mental note that Zeke was not someone to be messed with.

The Darkling with the two-handed sword had also decapitated the nearest jagged bladed swordsman and was now sword to sword with another of the saw bladed creatures. Symone appeared to be the weakest link in their now three-man chain. He wanted to impress Zeke, but something deeper within him took over his thoughts and mind. He must kill them all. He dodged a careful strike from his closest adversary and spun around him, thrusting his blade backwards through the creature’s midsection where its heart should be. It fell to the ground and moved no more, apart from the normal twitches that come from the newly dead. This was the first time that Symone had slayed a humanoid creature, but through his lust for blood and his anger against his new companion he did not hesitate a moment in his strike.

“They die like men,” he thought. He quickly removed his blade from the dead creature and slashed another of the monstrosities three times in quick succession. Symone repositioned his sword to strike dead his third foe. This foe, however, proved more formidable. He had watched Symone and now could contend with his maneuvering. The creature stayed far away, barely entering the striking range of Symone. Symone could get a scrape or slash in occasionally, but nothing mortal, because of the horrible creature’s reach. Symone parried one of the wicked blade’s blows, only to receive a haymaker from the creature’s other fist. Symone fell under the force of the blow. His blade went cockeyed in his sudden fall and it fell out of his reach. The creature approached but instead of plunging his blade into Symone, it turned it to the side and tried to grab him with its huge arms instead. Symone was helpless against the creature’s strong grip.

The creature started carrying off Symone into the woods, but was interrupted by the arrival of the Darkling with the two-handed sword. Symone was flung upon the ground and his head hit a large stone. He was now a good distance away from his discarded weapon. The grey creature was almost double the height of the Darkling his black eyes shone with bloodlust, yet the courageous fighter deflected strike after strike from the larger foe. Two more of the creatures quickly advanced and Symone lay helpless upon the ground.

The Darkling wielding the two-handed sword now faced three of the fowl beasts. Symone tried his hardest to move toward the Darkling with the two-handed sword, but he was too late. At the same time that the Darkling felled one of three creatures with his sword, the other two overcame him. They all fell to the ground in a ball of blows, cutting, kicking, and biting. The Darkling quickly killed another of the two as they struggled against each other on the ground, but Symone noticed that the Darkling too was grievously wounded. Three good stabs from the remaining creature penetrated the Darkling again and again, tearing through his flesh with their saw-like edge. Blood poured forth and he made the sounds of one meeting death. His body fell limp, his head turned facing Symone, his eyes glazed over with a blank gaze, but almost a hopeful look frozen upon his face.

Rage filled Symone. He made it to his feet and grabbed one of the fallen creatures jagged blades. The creature that had killed the second Darkling was now coming toward Symone. Symone struck hard, but his blow was deflected and the thick-skinned creature moved in to grapple him just as the other had done before. This took Symone by surprise and he quickly tried to out maneuver out of the gangly creature’s grasp, but he quickly found himself outmatched in strength.

The brute squeezed him so tightly that he cried out in pain, dropping his newly acquired sword. Symone, however, was no novice in hand-to-hand combat. The moment the creature relented in his grip, Symone shifted his bodyweight slightly and forcefully threw his hip into the side of his larger and stronger opponent. At the same time, he pulled tightly upon one of the creature’s gangly arms with both of his own twisting it in the opposite direction that he had forced his hip causing the creature to fall to its knees. Symone recovered the jagged sword as the creature tried clumsily with its long arms to get back to its feet and Symone swung down upon the creature’s neck. It made contact as the creature was trying to rise up. Its neck was split and blood sprayed out of the wound. Symone did not stop but struck again and again as the creature fell to the ground. Symone stood covered in blood, his heart pounding ferociously, the effects of Zeke’s influence completely worn off.

Zeke too was standing among many corpses and covered in blood. One of the creatures was still alive on the ground grabbing at its deeply cut leg. Zeke put him out of his misery. Symone made his way to his own blade and tossed aside the awkward saw blade. Symone then approached Zeke and he realized that some of the blood that covered Zeke was in fact his own. Zeke had a ugly cut on his right arm. He had taken a saw strike to his forearm and it was bleeding profusely. Symone also noticed that the number of corpses surrounding Zeke was a score at least.

“Poison,” Zeke said as Symone approached, then he began tying off his arm above the wound and above his elbow with a length of cloth that he pulled from somewhere inside a small pack on his side. He did not wrap the wound yet, but let it drip with blood. He pulled a flask from the same pack as he spoke, “All of their weapons are poisoned” he said as he poured the contents of his flask on his wound. “If you have any injury, whether from sword or arrow it will need attention. If left alone, it will never cease bleeding, until you are drained dry.”

“My injuries are slight and not from their weapons,” Symone said.

“Great!” Zeke responded sounding genuinely happy to hear that. “I had thought I saw one of them nearly best you.”

“Well, one nearly had,” Symone replied. “He could have gone for a killing blow, but instead he moved in to restrain me.”

“Curious,” Zeke said as he bandaged his wound.

“What are they?” Symone asked, motioning to the grey creatures scattered around.

“They are the Gurr.” Zeke answered. “They are enslaved along with my people by the entity known as Somen-Yul. Their seeking to kill us and capture you confirm my suspicions.”

“They were trying only to capture me?” Symone asked.

“I thought that to be obvious, but maybe not.” His eyes looked as if he was lost deep in thought. “The Gurr do not seek to grab or grapple, unless they are given direct orders to do so. They are primitive and think of only slashing, stabbing, and killing. I myself used their narrow breadth of intellect to my own advantage in combat.” He motioned to those slain upon the ground around him. “This is likely a sign that my position as Sentinel has been revoked, and upon my return, I will be killed. I do not know how Somen-Yul has become aware of our doings, but he must both understand my thoughts regarding who you are and my intentions to help you in destroying him. He, however, underestimated how many he should have sent if he wanted to succeed in his efforts.”

“Destroying him?” Symone choked. “I have my own problems! And if you cannot defeat this Somen-Yul on your own then surely, I can do little to aid you. I have to find my sister, Daylinn, and get her to the Western edge of Athyorn Valley within 6 days or else the lives of my family, and likely my whole village will be forfeit.”

Zeke looked genuinely sympathetic. “I apologize for bringing you deeper into the forest and into such danger. I too have done this for the sake of my family and my people. Before, when I spoke to you, I was exerting influence belonging to the nature of my kind, but now it has worn off once again and I ask you honestly for your help. Will you aid me seeking salvation for my people?”

Symone sat silently for a moment. Searching to see if his thoughts were his own. He weighed his options carefully and then answered, “I am left with little choice, other than wandering alone through the forest. I cannot be sure whether you are using your spellwork on me again or if my instincts can be trusted, but it seems to me that something greater than your power has drawn me here. I only ask that if I help you, that you would also help me find my sister.”

“I will not deceive you. If you aid me, however, it is possible that we will both be killed. It is also possible that you are the one that the wise one has foretold, if that be the case then we will be victorious. You will hear the fullness of this soon, along with those things that only the wise one can show you. We now face danger on every side, but we will be much safer in his domain. Once all is laid plain, you may make your final decision. If you decide against helping, I will put myself in peril along with you in order to search for your sister, but if you decide to help, and we succeed, I vow that you will have an army to find her.”

“I have many questions, but I think I can withhold them for now until we reach more pleasant lands. How much further until we escape this dreary section of the Dark Wood?” Symone asked.

“We will be crossing out of the Dark wood,” Zeke replied. “We must cross over the river, Mali-dine, into Elder Wood. We are less than a few hours from the river, our destination will not be far once we cross.”

Elder Wood? Symone thought to himself. I have an uncle who lives there. And then it struck him for the first time that Daylinn might be heading there. It would be one of the few places that she would be familiar with. He was silent as they went along. The more he thought about his uncle Ignoble, the more he was sure that Daylinn would go to him. His uncle had left a few years after his grandfather. His uncle was a formidable spell worker and desired seclusion from those who looked upon such things with suspicion. Village folk are militant against the slightest spell. The dragons are worse. They seek to squash any spell workers who have any potential. They are the only ones who could oppose them. The dragons have spells of their own and are altogether more powerful than any man, but the spell workers likely remind them of the slayers of old.

Symone halted because he realized that Zeke was no longer walking beside him. Zeke had stopped moments before and Symone had gone a good five steps along without him. Zeke had one hand on his sword hilt, while he listened intently to his surroundings. Symone watched him for a few moments and Zeke then removed his hand from his sword hilt. Symone for the first time, noticed the beauty of the weapon. Its metal was a dull faded color, as if silver that had tarnished, but it had a great beauty remaining.

“This sword is named Quel-tiel. That is Quick-draw in the tongue of the Ancients, but it has another trait besides coming quickly free from its scabbard; when I hold firm upon the hilt I can see like a hawk, smell like a hound, and hear like a doe in the field. I thought we may be being followed, but there are none pursuing us.”

“Ancients?” Symone asked. “I thought they were a myth. Do you mean to tell me that they actually exist?”

“Ah, it is a sad tale my friend. Both my blades come from days long past, from the hands of the El’ Telliel, or ancients as they are known today. They were mighty in knowledge and coveted their secrets. Their enchantments and inventions have been lost even to their mixed blooded descendants, the elves. There are few such weapons left in the world, yet I have been so fortuned as to obtain two. I have never seen a third.”

“You jest!” Symone asserted, interrupting Zeke, “you expect me to believe that there were actually ancients and that there are elves?”

“You have not gone far from the valley have you, my friend? Yet still you have seen one greater than both. For Ikhor is of the Dark Ones from the near dawn. Elves still walk the world, but the ancients tread here no more. Elves are descended from the ancients who wedded mankind, but the ancients were destroyed long ago from the world, and their knowledge lost.”

“Where have you learned of these things?” Symone asked sincerely, but he was filled with doubt regarding Zeke’s words.

“My people sing many songs written from before the pollution of the Eden Moor, from before Lohc’s and Dwarves left the world, and before…” he trailed off for a moment. “Well, maybe one day I will sing you one of them, or if fortune favors us, you will hear them chorused by my people in victory. We have songs of history, of warning, of dark things, and of victorious ones as well. For now, I must think. There is much coming up and I must be prepared.”

They walked for a long time in silence, both of them lost in deep thought. Symone wondered if he could find his uncle Ignoble’s house once they crossed the Mali-dine. He had only been there once. If there was a way that he could stop there while they were so close, he was sure that he would find Daylinn there eating and drinking with his oblivious uncle.

The sound of rushing water could now be heard from the distance. They were nearing the great river. As they walked Zeke began to sing. It was a strange unfamiliar tune, but Symone was captivated by every word. He could feel the magic of Zeke’s voice, but in an entirely different way than it had been used before. Even after a scene of such sorrow, no one upon hearing such a song could remain unmoved.

From far away, yet nought so far, comes Tay Duron through grayest mar.

None can slay, tho’ many tray, many stray, as dost Duron.

For nought can come til victrys won, all rest is gone til Tay Duron.

Blackest shadows flee away from Tay Duron on his Darkest day.

The Darkest way, Tay must stray, and mighty sword doth many slay.

Destroy the deep, the ones of old, those of whom many tales be told.

In the night, when many fright, Tay Duron doth stay n’ fight.

Light doth come, as morning sun, doth shine again upon Tay Duron.