A Sacrifice for Varkanah: Chapter Four

Saeran leaves Rosehollow Village to begin his journey to Valdi alone. But he is not alone for long....

Chapter IV

 

The cold, white rays of moonlight streamed through the Saeran’s spotless window and pooled in his twinkling brown eyes. He stuffed a woolen coat into a leather travel-bag, trying to muffle the sound of it as much as he could, so as to not wake Drennan.

With every shirt, coat, or pair of breeches forced into the bag, Saeran grew closer to preparedness. He had to leave Rosehollow Village tonight if he wanted to have any hope of discovering what happened to his family. He could not allow himself to be distracted by farewells to his friends. That would only slow him down.

His bag was almost full as he pushed a single, dull brown replacement cloak into it. He buttoned the bag shut, then slung it over his shoulder, over the light blue cloak he was already wearing.

Saeran walked quietly across the cluttered room and over to the door. He flinched as his leather boot crunched on something�"he was not sure what�"that had been left on the floor long ago.

Drennan stirred in his sleep, but did not wake. Saeran sighed with relief, and then slowly opened the door, being careful not to let it creak. He stepped outside into the chill morning air and silently shut the door.

He’d completed the hardest part of his escape, getting away from Drennan, who was a notoriously light sleeper. He felt bad leaving his young cousin all alone in this strange place, but he’d made arrangements with Cuthric the innkeeper to inform Drennan of what had happened. Drennan was going to stay with Cuthric and help out at the tavern until Saeran returned.

Leaning against the doorway of his little house was a long, wooden walking stick. Saeran took it in his hands and took a step onto the dirty cobbles of the roads, the first step in what he was sure would be the longest, most difficult journey of his life. He knew that there was to be trouble along the way, sorrows and struggles that he would have to deal with. But he wanted to know what happened to his family in Valdi. He needed to know.

He continued walking, covering ground at a steady pace. His staff struck the stones as he walked, and Saeran hoped that the noise would not be enough to wake the rest of the village. All the houses were still dark, not a single light was in a window. From the light of the moon, though, Saeran had no troubles seeing the road.

At his side rested his plain, unadorned short sword. It had been a gift from his father for his fifteenth birthday, the day before his father died in the woods. But that is another story.

Rosehollow Village was a small town, so it did not take long at all for Saeran to be out of it. At the outer edge of the little village, the cobbled roads ended and made way for hard-packed dirt. The Narrow Road between Rosehollow Village and Heyterhill Village was seldom traveled. Most folk in that area preferred to live peaceful, uneventful lives, spending all their time in one place. The road was only traveled when necessary.

Saeran moved down the road quickly and to the sound of only crickets chirping in the forests around. The road was merely a safe path through the Darkmeadow Forest, where the tall trees had been cut down to make a trail.

Having walked this trail many times before, whether it was only to go to the other villages outside of the Darkmeadow Woods, or it was to travel all the way to Valdi as he was doing now, he knew the dirt road well, and even in the dark could cover ground quickly and safely. It did not seem like long at all until the sun was rising, casting light onto the little dirt path.

Saeran yawned. He knew that he must’ve covered many miles during the night, as he had left shortly after midnight and walked ‘til dawn, without a single stop. He figured that it was time for a break. Looking around for a place to sit, he walked a little ways into the forest, always keeping close enough to see the road. With all the frightening stories of the dark things that lurked in these trees, he wanted to be where he could get to a safe place quickly.

Soon, he found a tiny break in the dense woods. He lay down his long walking stick and slung his pack from around his shoulders to set it carefully on the turf. Rubbing his aching shoulders gently, he sat down on the soft grass, still slightly damp from the morning dew.

He withdrew a few strips of dried meat from his pack, along with a full wineskin. Taking conservative sips from the skin�"he only had one more after this; he had to make them last until he made it to another village�"and less conservative bites from the meat, he lay back on the grass and closed his eyes for only a moment…

 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Saeran Randsly, run away from home!” Saeran’s eyes popped open at the sound of the voice, haughty and proud. Lark Elford stood above him, stroking his hairless chin. Elves were not known for their capability for growing facial hair, much to Lark’s disappointment.

Saeran groaned.

“And here I thought that we were going to go to the tavern together and have a jolly good time. It seems that our friend doesn’t think Rosehollow Village is good enough for him anymore.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Hathien said, also standing over Saeran. “It’s not like you to leave without saying goodbye, Saeran.” She wore a long, blue dress with silver embroidery across the breast. “It would seem to be as you say, Lark.”

Saeran yawned, and got to his feet. “How did you find out?”

“Did you actually believe that Cuthric could keep this secret?” asked Lark, seemingly incredulously. “Get one drink into that man and he’ll tell you a secret given to him by the High King himself!”

“And what of Drennan? Did you leave him in Rosehollow?”

Stepping into the midst of the trees surrounding them, was Drennan, his face downcast. “I am sorry, Saeran,” the boy said, his voice strained and weary. “I should have stayed, I should have obeyed you.”

One glance at Drennan’s light blue eyes almost wrenched tears from Saeran. His young cousin looked as sad as any man could be. His cheeks, while not wet from tears yet, were bright red in color. His breath came raggedly. “No, I am sorry, Drennan. I was being selfish.” Saeran walked over to his cousin and wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“I feel terrible interrupting this touching moment,” Lark said, lying once again, “but we’d best get on the road if we are going to get to Valdi in time. I’m not sure how you expect to follow these killers, as any evidence will be long gone by the time we arrive there…”

Saeran shook his head. It took only one day for his lonesome adventure to be joined by three other people. He muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine, then. Let us get started. It will take much longer for four people to travel all this distance than it would for one.” He pointed his long walking stick in the direction of the road. “Let’s be off!”

And so, the true journey began. Lark Elford walked in the lead, his long Elven legs giving him greater speed than the others. “Come on, folks. Keep up!” he called back, without turning his head.

“What a thick-head,” Hathien muttered softly, for her ears alone.

“Pardon me, Miss Nerid?” Lark said loudly. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear you.”

She rolled her eyes.        

As the four of them walked along the Narrow Road, the already dense trees grew even thicker around them. Green vines hung from the dark canopy above, to dangle in front of their faces. More than once, Hathien squealed as she walked right into a hanging branch. She had never traveled this road.

The legend is told in Rosehollow Village that the Darkmeadow Forest is rife with dangerous, horrid monsters. They speak of giant, man-eating fire ants with the power to roast and eat a fully-grown man before he even knew the beast was there.

Worse still, there were the Almas, the ugly offspring of man and ape. Covered with hair and lusting for human blood, these creatures ran rampant throughout the forests, destroying all they saw.

There were other beasts too, wolves, bears, boars, but none of them were as horrible or deadly as the Harpy. They were full of power and had the ability, and the will, to kill anything that lives. A combination of man and eagle, these beasts were witty and clever. But what really set them apart from the rest was their beauty. They had the power to lull a man into loving them, only to tear him to shreds moments later. Some who survived encounters with them described them as creatures straight from the pit of hell.

Saeran shuddered. What would he do if they met up with one of these beasts? On his return home he had just avoided the forests altogether by going to the north, where the trees were thinner and less frightening, but they needed to get to Valdi quickly. And this was the only way.

The first miles went by quickly as the five friends walked along the worn road in a state of companionable silence, content to sit in their own thoughts for a while. In the thick of the wood, the sun was, for the most part, invisible. Very little light seeped in through the dense canopy above.

Thinking of monsters, Saeran hardly noticed the passage of time until it became almost impossible to see his own hand in front of his face. “Time for camp,” Lark stated, a simple statement of fact.

The others nodded their agreement, and then reached into their bags to find the necessities. Saeran examined the area around the road, not daring to stray too far from where the others were in his fear of getting lost in these woods. Saeran shuddered at the thought.

Soon, he had found a suitable sized clearing. In a matter of minutes, the others had joined him, setting up tents. Drennan pulled a tinderbox from his pack and lit a fire from a pile of twigs and sticks.

“I am exhausted,” Hathien said, her voice showing her weariness. “How can you people walk all that way in a single day? It’s absurd!” She took a flask of red wine in her hand, taking a long gulp from it.

“You had better get used to it, Hathien, as we’ll be doing this every day for the next few weeks. It is a long way to Valdi,” Saeran said.

At the mention of Valdi, Drennan clamped his eyes shut, crawled into his tent, and pulled his blankets far up around him. Saeran sighed.

“I suppose we had all better do the same,” Lark pointed out, looking up at the dense foliage above.

And so they did. Saeran was delegated the first watch of the night, to be passed off to Lark in three hours. They did not wish to be caught by fire ants during their sleep.

The night passed uneventfully, with the watch switching when it was necessary. Lark shook the others awake just after dawn, telling them it was time to get back on the road.

They took down the tents, stamped out what was left of the fire, and cleaned up their campsite. Then, suddenly, Lark’s Elven ears went stiff. “Silence, everyone!” the Forest Elf commanded, expecting obedience. Everyone complied. 

There was dead silence for several long moments. The four companions stood still in the middle of the little clearing, Saeran, Hathien, and Drennan exchanging confused looks.

“What is going on�"?”

“I told you to be silent!” Lark interrupted Saeran’s question. “Do you hear that? Those heavy footfalls, the cracking branches?”

Saeran listened carefully, then nodded.

Lark’s eyes went wide. “It is a foreign creature to these woods. Nothing native to the Darkmeadows would make that much noise. No, it is something strange, something large. It is…an ogre!” Lark cried out as the said ogre lumbered into the clearing, roaring ferociously!

The sight of the beast was terrible. It had tusks protruding from its lower cheeks, their tips colored deep crimson. “Blood!” Saeran cried, never taking his eyes off of the thing.

The ogre had just been feeding. Everyone in the party knew this. They knew also that it wouldn’t hesitate to rip the arms off of them and use them as toothpicks.

Drennan gasped, and the beast turned its ugly head towards the boy, baring its sharp, crimson-stained teeth.

“You will die, bloody ogre!” a voice cried out from in the trees. A hand-axe flew through the branches and into the clearing, striking the ogre in the side.

The beast flung itself towards Drennan, rage masking its horrendous face. It gnashed with sharp teeth, barely missing a shrieking Drennan. Saeran’s young cousin darted out of its way and onto the soft grass.

“Devil’s spawn! You will not feed again!” the voice called again. Dashing into the little clearing was a man a green cloak fluttering behind him in his haste. A long sword sliced at the ogre with deadly precision, creating deep gashes in the beasts flesh. The man’s face was frighteningly calm for his current situation.

“To the road!” Lark called to his friends, lifting Drennan from the ground and carrying him away. Hathien followed suit, leaving Saeran alone with the stranger and the ogre.

Saeran fumbled at his side for his plain short sword. When he finally got the hilt into his hand, the ogre stood at the end of the stranger’s blade, being pushed back towards the trees.

Suddenly, the enormous beast bellowed at the top of its lungs, bloody spittle flying through the air to land on Saeran’s face. The ogre took advantage of the stranger’s momentary distraction, sweeping a beefy fist towards him.

The stranger was only distracted for a moment, though, and managed to mostly evade the strike. Despite his quick reflexes, the ogre struck his sword hand, sending his long blade flying across the clearing.

“Aaaah!” Saeran loosed a battle cry as he charged at the ogre, short sword in tow.

“Fool!” the stranger cried, but it was too late. Saeran was committed. He managed to get close enough to plunge his sword into the ogre’s stomach before its fist crashed heavily into Saeran’s forehead. He heard the ogre roar in pain as the blackness enveloped him.

 

“Blasted fool, you are, taking on a bleeding ogre!” The stranger’s voice woke Saeran.

Pain thudded all through his head. “Gods, what happened?” he asked, to no one in particular.

“You tried to kill a blasted ogre! You’re bloody lucky that the thing didn’t kill you!” The strange man had pulled back the hood on his cloak, revealing his face. He was rugged, with short-cropped chestnut hair and stubble on his chin. He looked as though he’d been traveling far and long. “Never, ever attack an ogre without the proper training! That thing could’ve ripped you in two and used your bones for toothpicks.”

“Who are you? Why did you risk your own life to save us?” Hathien asked. She kneeled beside Drennan, who had a look of sheer fright on his face. She patted his shoulder comfortingly.

Lark stood some distance away from the stranger, looking disappointed at someone other than himself killing the ogre.

“You may call me Hesio Arishan. I have been hunting this beast for many miles, but he was always too far ahead of me to attack it.” He took up a cloth and wiped the ogre’s blood from his sword.

Hathien looked surprised. “Why would you want to hunt an ogre? Isn’t that dangerous?”

The stranger, apparently Hesio sighed heavily. “I, along with a companion of mine, had just come here from lands far away. We landed on this land’s shores just west of this forest, and when we stopped to camp, this bloody ogre attacked us while we slept. It killed my companion and managed to get away before I could fight back.” He nodded to the ogre’s corpse behind him. “Suppose I’ve got my revenge, now.”

“So, you’re leaving now,” Lark stated. Hathien looked at him angrily.

“And going where?” Hesio laughed. “I’ve got nowhere to go to.”

Lark smirked. “Well, then, you’re going to have some trouble, aren’t you?” He looked at his friends. “Come, let’s get a move on. We don’t want to trouble Master Arishan any more than we already have.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Lark!” Hathien said. “We will stay here until we’re sure that Master Arishan has a place to go.”

Hesio stood up. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Valdi, in Glasshore Province,” Hathien said too quickly, drawing a glare from Lark. She glared right back at him.

“All that way? I will join you. The way this fool reacted to that ogre,” he gestured at Saeran, “you’re going to need a good fighter with you.”

Lark chuckled. “We do not need your help,” he said. “If I had had my bow ready, that ogre would have been dead before you even got here.”

“Well, you didn’t have your bow ready. If this happens again, and I’m not around to save your bloody behind, you’re going to be slaughtered like a bleeding pig!” Hesio retorted. “I am coming with you.”

“Fine,” Saeran said, over Lark’s argument. “You can come with us. You had better pull your own weight in collecting food for the group. We’re not going to be your butlers.”

“Saeran, this is insanity!” Lark protested. “For all we know, this man might kill us in our sleep!”

“Well, either we take that risk or we’re killed on the road by a band of brigands,” Saeran stated. “What’s the point of all this if we go and get ourselves killed before we can find what happened to Drennan’s and my own family?”

With a disgusted look on his face, Lark stormed out of the clearing and back to the road.

“Like I said, traveler, you had better pull your own weight,” Saeran said to Hesio.

“Do not worry about that, friend,” Hesio replied.

And so, they got back onto the road, Hathien wearing a triumphant look on her face. She had finally beaten Lark Elford in an argument.

Author's Note

How do you feel about the somewhat cliché fantasy creatures that I've begun to introduce? Is it too cheesy?