Light Borne, page 8
Elan put on the clothing given her by Erromos. She looked as if she were a warrior, now. She was more prepared for the journey, as well, after hearing these truths from Erromos. Time grew near for their departure, so she gave Twayblade some time to bid his friend farewell in private. He and Erromos loved each other. It was apparent that they had known one another for time out of mind. She wondered how they had come to know each other.
Erromos waved to them as they found their way back onto the road. He knew it would be a long time before he would see Twayblade again. He watched as they traveled around the bend. “Farewell, friends and good luck.”
“How did you meet Erromos?” Elan ventured to ask.
“When I was but a young foal, I was called to be among the horses chosen to be trained for battle. There were nine others who were to be taught by the Sons of Light,” Twayblade answered. “Erromos called me out as a horse of power.”
She really did not understand, but she did not press him about it. He was grieved at the thought of not seeing Erromos again and so she let it alone. Elan asked, “Where does this road lead?”
“To the outer edge of the Bothrane countryside. There, we will cross the Badlands and make our way to the shoreline of the Antediluvian Sea. When we reach the end of the shore, there will be a boat that we will take to the edge of the Demain Durak. If all goes well, we will throw them off by taking the water.”
Twayblade never wavered in his pace; he was steady and true, and she was more than a little happy to have him with her. “How long do you think it might take us to reach the sea?” was her next question.
“Perhaps three days, if we are not delayed.”
“What kind of boat are we to take?”
“It is a small boat, yet large enough. The captain to whom it belongs is an old friend. He will see us safe to the edge of the dark valley.”
After a short silence, Twayblade asked, “Are you all out of questions?” He whinnied and Elan knew that he was teasing her. She laughed for the first time in a long while.
After many hours, they came to the edge of the Badlands. Elan looked out into them trying to see what lay before them, but there was nothing to see. A flat, dusty land was ahead and it would make for a fast pace for Twayblade.
“We spend the night here.” He led her to an ash tree, perhaps the last tree, on a grassy slope by a spring. They both needed water and it was cool and clear. She had thought it would be a peaceful night. It was, in fact, a worrisome night; all around them, the eerie howls pierced the darkness. It seemed an eternity before the sun finally broke through the blackness.
The riding was hard for Elan that day. Twayblade had warned her that he aimed to make it across the Badlands that day and he carried through on his word. His deafening gallop rumbled through the sky and she felt every powerful stride down to her very bones. She was overjoyed at the smell of the sea on the wind. She knew it would not be long until they would see the end of the Badlands.
Soon, they came to the shore of the Antediluvian Sea and Twayblade took advantage of the cool water after such a hard run. He splashed and swam as Elan took a stroll down the shore. She did not notice the cavern under the rise in the rocky crag, but what was inside that cave noticed her.
It was a Vorir, a wraith that had the ability to change shape from serpent to human; its appearance did not fool her. Elan’s extra sense was right on and she knew exactly what he was. The Vorir appeared red with bat-like wings and a very long, spiny tail. It looked like a large snake, but it had small pointed ears atop its head. It had been waiting for her, or following her, and it thought she would be alone.
The moment she heard the voice of the Vorir, she knew that evil loomed. It was a voice filled with deception and trickery. Somehow, she knew it was a snake before she had laid eyes on it. It flew out of its hole and hovered in front of her. “You must be lost, little one. For what could one such as you be out here alone and this close to nightfall?”
Elan would have rather not carried on a conversation with it and remained silent, remembering how she had been deceived at Bothrane. She tightened her grip on the stave and braced herself for what was coming. “You will not be having me for your supper, if that is what you had in mind…Dark One.”
“The furthest from it, dear.” It tried to sound sweet, but the thinness in its voice belied him. “Won’t you only speak with me a little while, for no one’s passed by here in ages?” He continued on with his charade as if she hadn’t realized what he was.
“I must be getting back. My friend awaits me,” she tried to back away. Once the Vorir heard that she was not alone, he became even nicer, for he was greedy and thought why he should have just the one, when he could have two.
The words slurred from his mouth as he transformed himself into a man. “Does this form suit you better, now?” he said, taking the form of a young man and still hissing. “Perhaps my serpentine form put you off? Let us meet your friend, as well.”
Elan heard Twayblade neighing in the distance and hoped he would come her way. When the Vorir heard the neighing of a horse of power (it is different, you know), he panicked. He caught Elan by the arm and tried to pull her into his lair.
“I can kill the horse, dear. I can kill the horse and have you, little morsel that you are, for my dessert.”
He continued spewing nasty things about how good she would taste. Elan was afraid when he grabbed her, but only for a moment. When the Vorir threatened Twayblade, anger was kindled inside her and she took up the stave of Bothrane against him. Elan pounded the side of his head twice and he then returned to his true form. She raised the stave again and a look of dread came over the Vorir; he had seen Twayblade approaching behind her.
Twayblade stood there, waiting for her to slay him; but, she had never killed anything before and it was harder than she could have imagined, even if he was a wraith. When she hesitated, the Vorir lunged at her, hissing and spewing all the while. He slashed her arm with his claws and that was all it took for Twayblade to intercede. Vorir did not stand a chance against a horse such as Twayblade. Twayblade trampled the serpent’s head and that was the chance she needed to defeat him. Elan struck the Vorir’s head once again and he slithered off into the darkness.
“Let us be on our way.” Twayblade did not trust that another did not lie in wait. He and Elan walked on farther up the shore before he lowered himself so that she could climb up. Once she was on, they did not stop until they reached the ship.
Chapter Eleven:
It was a beautiful sight to behold, when they rounded that last corner. The ship which Twayblade was counting on to be there, sat out in the shallows awaiting their arrival. The sparkling blue water was so inviting that neither she nor Twayblade minded at all having to swim out to the ship.
As they came upon the ship, Elan could see branded on the side, “Vidarra”. She supposed that to be the ship’s name.
Twayblade said, “It means to go further. And that is just what she does; she can always take you further than any ship I’ve known.”
“She’s a knar, my lady,” a voice aboard the ship yelled out over the starboard side. “A Vikin’ ship that’ll carry ya ta the depths of Hades,” he sounded much like a pirate, but was a little less brash.
“And that is exactly where we are going,” Twayblade whinnied and the captain laughed. Elan didn’t really think it was all that funny. “Permission to come aboard, Captain Tryggar.”
“Permission granted, ol’ friend. Come aboard!”
After they were on board and fairly dry, she was amused by the tales exchanged between Tryggar and Twayblade. It was obvious that they had been friends for many years and had rode into many battles together. Elan felt at ease with Tryggar and something about his ship made her feel safe.
The Vidarra was a simple, smooth sailing vessel; a long boat with dark wooden planks. The figurehead on the bow was a simple scroll and the lines of her sails were clean and straightforward. Tryggar noticed her fascination with the vessel.
“She’s made from the wood of a warden tree, an ancient ash tree that guarded its family for centuries. She has served me well, she has.”
It struck Elan when he mentioned the ash tree that on this journey she had been told to sleep beneath the branches of an ash tree on more than one occasion. Now, she understood why. As she stood on the bow, she did indeed feel safe. Yet, she was aware of the darkness that followed.
“How will we make it to the Demain Durak unnoticed?” Elan asked Tryggar.
“Ah, there be an underground route we shall be takin’, miss. They’ll never know which way we came by.” Tryggar reassured her. “We’ll be outta thar sight by nightfall.”
She looked out over the water in awe of the beauty of the sea. The salty breeze on her face and the vastness of the sea made her feel alive and free. The faint sound of a man’s voice sent a shudder through her heart. It was him…again she heard the soft speech of the one who sought her. Who was this voice coming from the outer world? His effect on her was becoming obvious, as the area around her brightened with the light from the Lazul.
“For time untold I’ve waited…do you remember…?”
I know him…but she didn’t know him. He was so familiar, something made her want to run toward the sound of his voice and never look back. He made her tremble.
A touch on her shoulder felt like home. She knew at that moment if she ever found him she’d never want to leave.
Elan searched the shores as they sailed for any sign of Risorr or the others, never completely at ease now that she had seen what they were up against. She paced for the better part of the day, from bow to stern.
At last, they came to a sheer rocky precipice that jutted out over the water. “Here we are, miss. Don’t you fret yourself, now, dear,” Tryggar told her.
He turned the ship toward the cliff and it crossed her mind that maybe he really didn’t know what he was doing, after all. When he had said underground, she had just assumed that they would be getting off the ship; but she was wrong.
As the ship slipped into the side of the earth, Elan saw that they were traversing a great, underground river. It was dark and silent upon the subterranean waters. Tryggar lit torches that were mounted on the railing of the ship’s sides and the ceiling of the cavern we entered into became ablaze with glittering gems. Stalagmites that rose up out of the stone shores were encrusted with crystals. It was breathtaking.
They continued on, winding around the river’s bends for many days, slipping unnoticed into the borders of the Demain Durak. “This is the Rokva River. It will take us into the dark valley.” Tryggar told her. She was not familiar with the Rokva, but Elan knew full well what it was like in Demain Durak and that it was apt to be unlike the peaceful water they saw now. The dread of what lay before them began to weigh heavy on her.
“There is no need to let yourself grow weary with things that are beyond you, yet,” she heard Twayblade saying. “For you know that Ehveh will grant it to you to overcome this darkness.”
“I know,” she sighed, “I just fear that I may not be worthy of what is entrusted to me.”
“There are none who are worthy……only those who are true.” Twayblade went on to finish the story of how he became a horse of power. “Myself and the nine were driven into the deeps of the Eridanus River. The others swam to shore at once; I, on the other hand, did not. I waited. Erromos called me out as a horse of power and told my keepers to set me free. It was told to Erromos, by Ehveh, that he himself would teach me. And that he did.”
“How did you know that they were right about you?” Elan wanted to know.
“I didn’t. I only knew that Ehveh was true to his word. I knew what was in my heart and to that I held.”
She was finally beginning to understand. She hadn’t done anything to deserve what was given her; her heart was what made her special. They retired for some rest and spent a good while peacefully drifting along the river. Two days more passed by uneventfully and she was glad for the respite. Twayblade and Tryggar enjoyed each other’s company immensely and so it was a pleasant trip for everyone. During the day, they would all pitch in with the work about the ship and after the chores were through, they would sit together and eat and drink. She would listen to the rapport between the two dear friends.
“How did you two meet?” she was inquisitive, as always.
Tryggar smiled and rubbed the dark stubble on his chin. He looked at Twayblade and said, “Ah, a good long while ago, eh my friend?”
“A good long while,” Twayblade said. “Tryggar was the first to call on me for battle. We rode into the Battle of Bothrane together.”
“Ah, yes………good ol’ battle and glory. I miss them days, ol’ friend.” Tryggar was lost in thought for a moment and then began to tell the tale of the horse of power in the Brynhild Moors and the Battle for the Lazul at Bothrane. “As for me, I know that the rightful heir now holds the Lazul. She’s a heart for it and for the light.”
“Aye,” Twayblade said lowly.
During the early morning hours of the seventh day underground, the group could see light coming in up ahead. “It’s not the end of our journey yet, miss. It’s an opening to the surface, above Lake Siedar. We’ll be there shortly.”
Elan was glad to see the sunlight; soon, they could hear a voice singing sweetly. It sounded sad and lonely. It found its way into their thoughts and made them pity it.
Twayblade said, “Do not listen to the voice of the song. It seeks to lull its victims into a stupor with its singing and then drown them in the lake. It is Akrop, a cave dwelling scorpion. It is a fearsome foe and we do not wish to tangle with it unless there is no other choice.”
“Where is it?” she asked, in a hushed voice. Her fear grew, along with the presence of the Akrop in her mind. She could feel the blood pounding through her body.
“Above us, waiting for us to pass through,” Tryggar whispered, pointing to the opening above them. He paced from side to side, breathless and frustrated at being sabotaged.
Elan did not know how they would ever manage not to listen, so beautiful and sweet was its voice. When the ship arrived on the lake, the earth opened up into a towering cavern that had a hole in its roof. The sunlight spilled down onto the lake giving it an azure glow. It was very enticing. She thought that the scorpion probably had no problem deceiving its victims. Soon, she was thinking that maybe she would be one of them. As the seconds passed, she found it harder and harder to resist the song of the Akrop. Clasping her hands over her ears, she hoped to drown out the sound.
As they drew closer to the lake, they saw that the shore was littered with the remains of the past meals of the Akrop. Elan began to get frightened as she looked around. Her eyes searched the ceiling around the opening throughout their passage over the lake. Shortly, they could see something crawling along the rocky walls. The singing grew nearer. She briefly caught sight of the Akrop and it sent a chill down her spine. Indeed, it was a cave scorpion; yet its size was twice that of Twayblade. Its long, spiny legs reached out before it, grabbing hold of the stone as it moved along the cavern walls. It seemed to her that it was looking for a launching place from which to pounce upon the ship.
Silence fell on the cavern and they no longer saw the Akrop. The ship floated with the current of the river and soon, they had made it to the other side of the lake. They thought, hopefully, that the Akrop had lost interest. Its song ceased and all was still; little did they know that it would be but a moment later that it would be on board with them.
The ship shifted to one side and they could feel the weight of something pulling it over, nearly capsizing us. Then we saw the darkness of the scorpion alongside the ship. It was trying to sink us! Elan watched as Tryggar rushed to and fro trying to steady the Vidarra. It was useless against the size and strength of the Akrop. Twayblade tried to shift his weight to the side opposite the scorpion, but even his mass was no match for the Akrop.
The sharp claws of the Akrop came over the side of the ship, reaching for Tryggar. Elan shouted out to him, “Look out-behind you!” But it was too late. The scorpion latched onto Tryggar’s leg and pulled him across the deck. Twayblade tried to kick at its leg, but he could not for fear of kicking Tryggar. Tryggar’s blade met the creature’s foot and it let out a high pitched squeal. It released its hold on Tryggar and he scrambled back up onto the ship’s deck.
Finally, coming to her senses, she caught herself up; she hit the deck of the ship with the stave. A ring of light discharged from the stave, reverberating across the deck. The ship steadied and Elan said in a loud, sure voice that echoed through the length of the entire river, “Sakum, Ehveh, umrad vaman sen Akrop.” (I ask, Ehveh, help kill the Akrop.)
Immediately, the light from the Lazul filled the cavern and the cave scorpion hissed and recoiled back into the darkness. Holding the stave tightly in her hands, Elan said, “Vaman!” (death). The echo said it with me and a great many times over in the seconds that followed. A great resonance filled the cavern and the sound of the demise of the Akrop could be heard throughout the cave as it breathed its last. Elan fell down upon the deck of the ship, breathless, and thanked Ehveh. They all did.
A few hours after their narrow escape from the Akrop, they were sailing back into the darkness. They all were more than ready for this journey to be at its end. A day’s more time and they would find themselves on the shores of the Rokva, inside the borders of the Demain Durak.
“I can take ya as far as Rokva Falls,” Tryggar told them. “There will be no road to follow once ya pass through the falls.”
“Through the falls?” Elan asked.
“You and I will have to pass through the falls and into the river. Once we make it onto shore, we must make haste in getting into the woods for cover.” Twayblade explained that there was no way for the ship to pass under the falls and survive.
“What about you, Tryggar?” she was concerned for him to return to the sea alone.
“Ah, miss, I been a sailing alone all these years-don’t ya worry none for Tryggar, now,” he answered.
