The Forging Chapter 7: Darkness follows

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of the author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

The shadows made her nervous. As soon as Laith left, she began to have the feeling that the trees were whispering, and they begrudged her instrusion. She sensed a sentient anger in the air, but she shrugged it off as her imagination. Feryl could see the open valley floor, and no shadows moved across it. Still, she could not shake the feeling that something was out there, but she chalked it up to a long day of travel and a bit too much tea.

Laith did not know what to do. His secrets were closing in on him, and he did not know how he could tell the truth after so much time had passed. He felt like maybe he should just keep running until exhaustion, or a beast, or the laughing gods themselves saw fit to end his misery. He had been so glad to discover the trail leading out of the village that showed dwarf footprints, with an injured human in tow. He followed the trail to Grenwyn’s shop and there he saw her. He thought his heart would burst at the sight, and yet he could not go to her.

He learned from others, that she had no memory of her previous life, and he did not know how to feel about that. Without her memory, she was free from Dastrius, and perhaps they could be together, but he would also never know if she remembered him form their previous encounter. He felt so guilty in keeping the information from her, but he kept telling himself she must have suffered a great trauma, and that there was a reason she did not remember. She would remember when the time was right, when she was ready. So he watched from afar, always too afraid to venture near. He watched her fight and saw the hardness in her eyes, the fury that lay just beneath the surface. He feared that she would hate him when she finally remembered things, but his greatest fear was that she would not remember him, even when her memory returned.

It was not until the attack at Grenwyn's shop that he dared to draw near. He knew he could not let her suffer the loss of another friend, nor could he risk any harm to come to her. He was relieved when she did not recognize him, so he continued to play along with the charade, stating that he had a personal reason for wishing to find out more about the men who had attacked her. It was a plausible lie, as many had suffered under the tyranny of the Shadow Cloaks. Really, he told himself,it wasn’t a lie at all, he did have personal reasons, he wanted to destroy whomever had caused harm to his beloved Faelyn, who had destroyed his second chance at a home, and who had destroyed so many of his friends.

Feryl heard a rustling in the brush and at first she thought it was Laith returning to the camp, but something seemed wrong about it as she had never known the elf to make even a single sound while walking. Feryl slowly drew her sword and moved closer to Grenwyn to wake him, just as she was about to touch him, a foul stench filled the air and it was so powerful she had to cover her mouth. In those few seconds, the creature was out of the woods and almost upon her. It was all she could do to keep from wretching, but she somehow managed to get her sword out in front of her in time.

The creature looked at her malevolently, and seemed to smile. It had approached from downwind, so she could not smell its vile stench until it was almost too late. The creature had a sickly purple skin, that seemed to be stretched to the point of breaking over its bones. It reeked of evil and decay. Grenwyn began to stir, “What the hells have ye been eating girl,” he quipped as he rose from his sleeping roll and pulled out his bone white axe. The creature hissed at the sight of it, and two more pair of yellow eyes emerged from the forest gloom. Feryl saw one point a wand at the fire, a black mist leaked out and the fire went out. “I’ll take him first” Feryl said, but she felt less certain now that she couldn’t see. Then she heard Mynix behind her “Galad Silim Fein” she shouted and a luminous ball of light appeared. Feryl and Grenwyn looked at each other and grinned, then they rushed the creatures.

Laith was drowning his guilt in a bit of the ‘fine old when he smelled it. He had been upwind of camp, and nearly wretched even at that distance. “Ghasts” he said and he started running back to camp. When he reached the edge of the forest, he could feel the trees accusing him, “Too late,” they whispered, and they overwhelmed him with their feelings of rage at this unholy intrusion. He gathered himself and moved on with all the speed he could muster. He emerged just as Mynix had finished casting her light spell. Grenwyn noticed him out of the corner of his eye. “about time you showed up,” he said gruffly, ”Here, I’ll even let ye in on some of the fun,” and with that he lifted him bone hammer in a mighty arc over his shoulder that knocked the first ghast to the ground, and drove the other in Laith’s direction. Before the ghast could even think about rising, Grenwyn drove another hammer blow right to its chest. The creature hissed in pain, but managed to get its filthy claws around the dwarfs leg and tear a painful cut. This of course, only made him angrier.

Feryl wasn’t fairing much better, although she was able to parry all of the blows, the creature kept her on the defensive, and she was soon to be backed up to the tree line. Remembering a technique Laith had taught her, she feinted low, allowing the Ghast to come within reach of rending her with its claws, but before it touched her, she barreled into it, driving it backwards and to the ground. It tore at her with its claws, and bit at her with its teeth, but she was able to drive her silver sword hilt deep into its forehead. The thing made a hissing sound, and began to dissolve into a greasy slimy mess, right underneath her. It tried to raise its arm to fire the wand at her, but Feryl noticed and kickedit away, along with the hand that held it.She wretched for just a moment then turned around in time to see Grenwyn place a mighty hammer blow shattering the creatures skull, and it too began to dissolve. She then turned to watch Laith.

Although late to the fight, his performance was flawless, and Feryl could not help but feel jealous of his natural ability. The creature pressed him, and he parried with flawless precision. With each parry, he not only blocked the attack, but somehow managed a counterstrike. The ghast was leaking an oily black liquid in a dozen places, and it was obvious the creature was slowing. Laith was just waiting for the right opportunity.

As if directed by the hands of the goddess herself, the moon appeared from behind the clouds and shone brightly on the creatures face. Laith gasped and took a step back, that was all the opportunity the creature needed, it was upon him at once, bearing him to the ground and tearing at him with tooth and claw. Feryl pulled herself up and plunged her sword into the creatures back. The creature hissed, and it turned into a sigh. The monstrous rage left its face and as it began to dissolve, Laith again saw accusation as he looked into the lightless eyes of what was once his friend and business partner, the inn keeper from Sparrow Haven.

Laith felt a coldness wash through his veins, and began to sink into darkness. Feryl was there to scoop him up, and as he faded from consciousness, once again gazing into her blue grey eyes, he became confused. “Goodbye Faelyn, good bye my … I have always …loved...you...” and with that he was lost to the dark.

Feryl looked to Grenwyn who just shrugged, and then to Mynix who had done her best to keep out of their way during the fight. “I think its poison.” Feryl said, Mynix began searching through her bag, here, she said, make him drink this. Feryl poured a greenish grey potion down his throat, and hoped it would be enough to help him. Mynix helped her clean his wounds, and Grenwyn gathered herbs and boiled them with water to clean the rest of their wounds. They laid him near the fire, and Feryl sat there the rest of the night, holding his hand, and waiting for him to regain consciousness. “it all seems so familiar,” Feryl said quietly to no one in particular. She had a brief vision of the elf laying on a snowy road, of Laith staring at her from a bed, and of feeling something in that gaze. That was all she remembered though, so she pushed it aside.

Mynix was both thrilled and frightened that she had managed the light spell again. Thrilled that she had actually helped in a battle. She imagined being able to cast magic bolts and fire and saving her friends while they stayed out of her path. She began to think about all the good she could do, all the wrongs she could right, and then she thought of her shadow. Her body went rigid as she considered the implications. Who was the woman in the woods? Was she a nymph, a sorceress, a goddess? If so, then was she an agent of good or of evil? Luckily, in all the fuss over Laith, her friends had not had a chance to question her about her new found abilities. Based on their reaction to her light, she was sure they would pressure her to learn more, and she did not want that power, she was afraid of what she would do with it.

Mynix had seen a vision of herself in her shadow that night at the shop. Despite the warnings of the mysterious woman, she believed that shadow to be a prediction, a glimpse of the future. In her shadow, she had seen herself, mad with power. In the vision, she made herself large and loomed over her town. She watched in horror as her dark image destroyed the family that had given her up. As it burned the nobles who had passed her up for even a serving position. She saw her image destroy all the boys whose eye she had failed to catch. The worst part of it though, was the glee. The wild abandon and pure joy she saw in her images eyes when she was enacting retribution. She thought she might throw herself from a cliff rather than ever face that vision of herself again. She had thought if she just kept herself from learning magic, she and her friends would be safe. Mynix was stuck in a precarious position, it had felt so good to help, and the lady, if she could trust her, had said; “a far greater evil will have been done than any that even your shadow could do” if she did not learn magic. Mynix wondered if she should trust the woman, but wondered more, if she could trust herself.

Feryl awoke and was surprised to find herself huddled protectively against Laith. His arm was wrapped around her, and she felt so happy, so right being there. She closed her eyes to savor the feeling for a moment more, but then the fear reached in. She moved away from him slowly so as not to disturb him, but as she did, he called out, ”Faeyln, Faeyln, don’t leave me.” and the name again triggered a warning in her heart. “Still having fever dreams it seems” Grenwyn said in his gruff manner. “Might be ye were looking pretty comfortable snuggled against him girl.” He teased. “It’d do you good ye know, ye are getting on in years.” Feryl couldn’t keep her stern expression as she went over and gave the dwarf a hearty smack on the backside then went back down into the valley to practice her sword work, and keep her mind at bay.

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of the author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

The Forging Chapter 6: Chance encounters

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of the author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

It was his turn to watch, and Laith had no trouble staying awake. So many confusing thoughts rushed into his mind. Feryl didn’t seem to remember him, and, as he told himself time and time again, she likely wouldn’t have even if she wasn’t suffering from amnesia. She had no reason to, the encounter that had meant so much to him, likely meant nothing to her.

Egren Laith had wandered into Sparrow Haven nearly a year ago. He had been living in the wilds and traveling about earning his keep by hunting, and fighting. That winter had been particularly harsh, and Laith had wandered the wilds for a long time before he finally reached Sparrow Haven. Having become lost in a snow storm, he was barely alive as he reached town. Faelyn had been the first person to spot him and actually stop to help. She carried him to a nearby inn, he remembered how surprisingly strong she was for a woman, and paid for him to have room and board until he recovered. The first night she sat with him, fed him soup, and bandaged his frostbitten fingers. He was barely awake, but as he drifted from consciousness, he looked up into her face, and knew he would love no one else while she still walked the Earth, and perhaps, not even after.

As soon as he was able to leave his bed, Laith found out his Patroness’s name from the inn keeper. He also told her that he would repay her kindness in fresh game for her kitchen. The inn keeper was so pleased that she went on to tell him that his Patroness, Miss Faelyn Firecloud, had stopped in every day to inquire of his status, and had paid for him to stay at the inn the rest of the season. Laith’s ears burned a bright red at the tips and he felt both a fierce hope that she might lower herself to love him as well, and also a bitter pain to his pride that he should have to accept such charity from this stranger whom he had fallen in love with.

He asked for directions to her home, that he might offer his thanks in person, and headed off to do so. When he reached her home, he could hardly contain his excitement at seeing her. He carefully pushed those thoughts aside and pushed his feelings behind a mask of confidence he certainly did not feel, and he knocked.

Laith was quite surprised when a man answered the door. The man was tall and statuesque, with hair the color of fine ebony and eyes a piercing blue. “The gods are laughing at me again,” Egren Laith thought, “The woman who has so stolen my heart has to be courted by the perfect specimen of a human male.” The man who answered the door just stared at him, and for some reason Laith felt a chill surge through his body. “H-hello, my name is Egren Laith, and I have come to offer my thanks and pledge my service to the lady Faelyn Firecloud.” The tall man just sneered at him ”Oh, you must be that filthy elf she wasted so much money on. I should have had you killed and saved myself the coins.” Laith was sure his ear tips must be on fire so great was his humiliation and wrath. Then he heard a voice call down, and his heart melted, “Dastrius my love, to whom are you speaking?” and upon hearing those words, his heart shattered. She was in love with this beautiful, horrible man.

Until that moment he had held out some hope that he was just a friend, or a casual suitor, but he knew now she loved this man alone. He also knew that this man was not worthy of her love. He hesitated for just a moment, unsure of whether he should tell her how the man had treated him, or turn about and leave. Dastrius made the decision for him. “It is just a beggar my love,” Datrius spoke with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Here kind sir, take these coins and may your fortune improve. In fact, if you would like, come to my shop tomorrow morning and I shall give you steady work for steady pay, and teach you the pride of supporting yourself with your own hard work rather than the pity of others.” though he said it in a jovial voice, the implied jibe cut Laith to the core. The man then leaned in and whispered in Laith’s ear, “If I ever see you at this door again, I will nail you pathetic heart to it.” And with that he shut the door.

Laith stood there for a minute, dumbfounded, and as he did he heard Faelyn whisper, “Oh Dastrius, how was I ever so lucky to find someone with such a kind and generous heart?” Laith stood there on the doorstep for a very long time. He then returned to the inn, and to his room, where he laid in bed without the strength or will to rise. During this time, Laith was thinking. At first he thought only of his pain, but his pain turned into resolution, and then determination. Laith would make something of himself, would work to make himself worthy of Faelyn, and then he would prove to her that this Dastrius is not who he appears to be. From that day forward, he strove towards that goal.

Laith worked hard over the next year, making forays into the great forests nearby and returning with fine game that he would supply to the inn keeper. Word spread of the delicacies she prepared with it, and soon, the inn was the most popular dining place in town. Even nobles began to take notice and they began to make requests for these dishes to be made for their elaborate parties, and banquets. The inn keeper began to pay Laith a salary for his services, and he used the money in turn to expand the inn, and in time, he became part owner. While he was not wealthy, he was comfortable and well respected. Everything was going well for Laith, but he still did not feel ready to approach Faelyn, he needed to gain confidants and learn the secrets this Dastrius his behind his handsome mask.

Then came the day when a request came for him to search out a very rare game indeed. In the highest reaches of the forest, there were rumored to be a rare breed of Black Deer. These deer were larger than normal, and very exotic. A noble wanted to have it for a party he was throwing, as it was something unique, that no one else would have, and would surely increase his standing in the social circles of the town. In exchange for this service, the noble offered Laith a disused townhouse. Laith was ecstatic, if he could acquire this tall house, he would be in a position to be worthy of a woman like Faelyn.

Laith returned to Sparrow Haven with the prize black deer in tow only to find utter destruction. He stood there in shock, marveling at how he had lost everything. The inn, the house, his friends, and Faelyn. “Faelyn” he whispered as he fell to his knees. He began to frantically search the burned corpses, the toppled shops, and ruined streets for any sign of her. He was once again the young boy who had brought destruction to those he loved, and he couldn’t help but think that the Gods were laughing at him.

Feryl woke from a troubling dream she could not place, and saw Laith staring intently into the campfire. "Laith?” Feryl said, and when she received no response, she said it a bit more firmly. Laith looked so sad, “Faelyn” he said, then seemed to start out of his reverie. “Who is Faelyn?” she asked, a hint of jealousy tinging her voice. Laith thought of the irony, and almost told her, but instead he said, “Someone who I lost…who I…” but he could bear to say no more. “I’ll take my leave,” he said, and walked swiftly out into the cool night air.

Feryl felt confused by this, not only because of his reaction, but because of the way that name made her feel. It seemed like the sound of it tickled some part of her mind that she had kept walled away for a reason. She knew that name, and Laith’s face had seemed so familiar to her. “Oh well,” she thought, and she added a few more logs to the fire and settled in for her shift keeping watch.

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of the author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

The Forging Chapter 5: Visitors in the woods

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of the author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

They had moved further into the forest than Feryl had ever been. She found herself drawn into the beautiful landscapes. There were no trails, but Laith had no trouble picking their way through by following game paths, and finding smooth passage through the woods where there were none. They would travel a few days, camp for a few days, then move on. They weren’t in much of a rush after the first few days, confident that they had evaded pursuit.

The woods here were quite different than the pine forests nearest to their homes. They had taken on a wild quality, and Feryl could sense that the hardwoods they now walked among were ancient. Mynix stared at the size of the trees and often stopped to try to wrap her arms around them, knowing full well that even a giant didn’t have the diameter necessary.

Laith laughed at their wonder, and felt good to be back in the lands he was born in. He was cautious to head in a direction far far from his hidden village, not wishing to risk any danger to the village or his group. He alone though, could feel the sentience in the trees, and the ancient wisdom their leaves whispered into the wind. Laith knew that these lands were truly wild and one might run into anything there. The land was alive, and it spoke to him. At night when the others slept, dryads would whisper in the breeze, "Welcome home Egren Laith," but they would not show themselves in the presence of humans, and certainly not in the presence of dwarves. Laith laughed to himself as he pictured the look on Grenwyn’s if he were to ever view one of the devastatingly beautiful creatures.

Feryl was pleased that they were taking another few days respite, the trees seemed oppressive to her, and the endless hiking did nothing to quiet her spinning mind. They camped at the lip of a small valley, it was one of the few places nearby where the trees separated long enough for more than the occassional dapple of sun to break through. The sunlight warmed her skin and a soft breeze cooled it as she worked through a few passes with her sword amidst the wild flowers that peppered the valley floor. To the humans, it felt good to be free of the confines of the forest, while beautiful, it made Feryl and Mynix a bit uncomfortable. To the dwarf, it was what it was, and he neither loved nor hated it, but to Laith, the closely packed trees gave him the feeling of an embrace and despite his love of the sun and sky, he was loth to leave the edge of the forest.

He watched as Feryl practiced her swordwork on the valley floor. He had seen her do it a thousand times or more, but he never tired of the sight. He watched her well muscled body move like silk from one attack to another. Her skin glowed like gold in the sunlight, with a sheen of perspiration covering every inch of her, and her wild red hair was loosely tied at the nape of her neck. Laith felt a tightening in his chest and realized he had been holding his breath. He could have sworn he heard Grenwyn chuckle, but when he turned around the dwarf had his head buried in the work of sharpening a sword. “She never practices parries,” Laith said aloud, though whether he said it to himself, or to the woods was anyone’s guess. He stood up, and set about correcting that.

Laith walked up to her, and she immediately tensed. “I hear it works much better if you practice with a partner,” he said. Feryl glared at his double meaning and went back to work. “You really are quite good,” he continued moving to face her again ”but I am quite sure there are a few tricks I could teach you.” Feryl sighed, and turned to make a half hearted slash at his feet. “ Flats of the blades only” he laughed, then turned about and moved in with a flurry of attacks, which, to Feryl’s credit, she managed to parry.

He moved in with a quick, high, thrust to her right shoulder, which left him open for Feryl to push an attack to his midsection, or so she thought. The thrust was merely a feint, and as she lunged at his stomach, he easily stepped to the side, while leaving his left foot in her path, tripping her. Feryl rolled with the fall and came up to face him. She did not see him, and only realized when she felt the cold of his sword pressed against her back, that he had leaped over her roll and came up behind her. He had anticipated her reactions to his every move. “Point” he said, and smacked her with the flat of his blade. Feryl sighed because she knew that from now on, she would not have a good excuse to practice without a partner.

Mynix sat by herself just out of earshot of camp huddled in the shadow beneath a massive oak tree. Mynix had been beside herself since her encounter with strange magic two weeks ago. Part of her wanted to leave and never be close to anyone again, but part of her wanted nothing more than to tell her family what had scared her so. “Family” she said softly. Mynix realized that this is what Feryl and Grenwyn, and now Laith were to her. That thought made her even more determined to leave, and ever more afraid to.

Up on the ridge, Grenwyn watched the duel, shook his head and smiled. “That’s one down.“ and he snuck off to see just what his other charge was up to. Grenwyn frowned as he saw the sadness written so clearly on Mynix’s face. He had taken care of the girl, and she had likewise taken care of him since she had been a small and quiet girl. He noticed now, as he watched her, that she had begun to blossom into womanhood. Her once round face had slimmed down, and she had grown taller, and skinnier. The effect of these changes made her seem both awkward and elegant, like a fawn trying out its long legs for the first time. He would never forgive himself for not being there to protect her that night. Had he not been drowning his sorrows, it was he who would have suffered at the hands of the spellcaster, and not her. “Bah” he said and threw his hands up in the air.

Laith had spoken to him at some length about what the girl might be going through. The elf had some knowledge of their enemy, and that made him both valuable and suspect in Grenwyn’s eyes. He had told him that Mynix, in a sense, was fighting against herself, what she had seen was some aspect of herself that was what folk normally keep hidden. The dark spot everyone hides deep in themselves. She needed to come to terms with this, her shadow self, in order to overcome her malaise. Unfortunately, Mynix would hear none of this. She refused to listen to or speak about anything having to do with the whole ordeal, and the more Grenwyn tried to help, the more he felt himself grow distant from her. “This spying doesn’t help” he thought to himself, and slowly resolved to go back to camp and sort their rations one more time.

Mynix was so buried in her own thoughts, she wasn’t even aware of the dwarf watching her, she also was not aware of the woman that began to materialize in front of her just as the dwarf walked away.
The woman walked over to Mynix, and looked at her curiously. “Shadow touched you have been,” said the woman in a curious accent. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Mynix knew she should have jumped up in alarm at the sudden intrusion, but the woman seemed to exude some sort of charm, which made Mynix feel relaxed and listless. “Darkness touches all of us, darkness is in all of us, but there is a reason we walk tall and proud and our shadow cowers behind us.” Mynix understood the reason in the words, but could not believe them in her heart. “You don’t understand,” Mynix replied, tears welling in her eyes, “You didn’t see it, didn’t see me. There was glee in my eyes, I was enjoying it…” she trailed off. “Visions are warnings, but not truth, we must accept the darkness acknowledge it, and control it, lest it control us,” Mynix realized for the first time how startlingly blue the woman’s eyes were, they seemed like an ocean, speckled with stars, it was as if they contained an entire universe and she became lost in their sea. “Know little one, that the shadow you saw is indeed a part of you, but know as well, that you can control that shadow.” Mynix listened intently, “There is great potential in you, and if you let your fear of your shadow control you, prevent you from becoming what you are capable of becoming, a far greater evil will have been done than any that even your shadow could do.” With that, the woman bent over and kissed Mynix once on the forehead. She then seemed to burst apart into a million sparkling lights. All at once the sights, sounds, and smells of the forest that Mynix had not until then realized had been absent during her encounter, rushed back at her with overwhelming force.

Mynix suddenly realized as well that it was now pitch black in the forest and she could no longer see her path clear back to the campsite. “How long have I been here” she wondered aloud, a great fear clutched at her, as she imagined one of the many stories she had heard over time of Nymphs and Dryads bewitching people into staying for many years in their realm. She felt that there was no malevolence in the being who had visited her, but she did not have time to consider the implications now. Fighting down a growing sense of panic, Mynix rubbed at the tingling spot on her forehead that the woman’s lips had touched. “Galad Silim Fein” a voice whispered in her ear, and before she knew what she was doing, she wove her hands in an intricate pattern and repeated those words. As she finished, a softly glowing ball of light came into existence floating 3 feet in front of her and level with her head. She jumped back, but the light seemed to follow her, she ducked, jumped, and laid down, but the little light stayed with her, and even with her head. She thought for sure that it was going to attack her at any moment, but again a calm came to her and in her head, she could hear the words, “This is both my gift to you, and your creation. You are capable of this and more, and I hope one day you might follow me. For now, be at peace, and follow your light, it will not last long, but you may summon it again if you practice the words and gestures. Follow the light to where your heart guides you.”

Mynix was so stunned that the light was almost out of her sight before she realized it was moving and she had decided to follow it. Out of the woods to her left, she could hear Feryl’s voice calling out for her, she was just beginning to wonder how she would explain the light to her friends when it popped out of existence. Mynix knew if she were to leave her friends, that this would be her chance. She could sneak away from them and they might search for awhile, but would be forced to continue on without her. Her light could guide her where she needed to go. But then, the light had guided her here hadn’t it. “I’m here” Mynix called out, “I’m here, I must have fallen asleep.” Mynix followed her friends voice, and when she reached Feryl, she collapsed crying into her arms, and when she had finished crying, Feryl led her back to camp. They all had dinner, and talked and laughed together, and everyone was pleased to see Mynix smile again. She did not know the identity of her mysterious benefactor, but she felt like she was looking again into those eyes when she stared up at the starry night sky.

When Feryl and Laith fell asleep, she walked up to Grenwyn, and wrapped him in an embrace that was very big for such a small girl, she kissed him affectionately on the cheek and said, “Goodnight Father.” And for once, Grenwyn was too choked up to say anything at all.

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of the author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

The Forging Chapter 4: Secret paths

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of the author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

They had journeyed towards a forested area northwest of the city. Skirting around the edge of the plains, they kept to higher ground and avoided seeing the ruins of Sparrow Haven. They stayed off of main trails, but since the great beasts in the area had been hunted down long ago, the worst they had to deal with were the peculiar black squirrels that chattered noisily in the trees.

The forest was set between the plains and the mountains, making it a peculiar mix of land moving from the golds and browns of the plains, to the lush green of the forest, to the sparkling white peaks of the snowcapped mountains. The air was fresh and cool, but gradually warming as spring bloomed into summer. The trees were mainly pine and cedar, which allowed them to see a long way ahead, and pick their way easily since the tall trees had prevented much undergrowth. In the midst of the warm day, the whole area held the sweet scent of warm pine needles. Small mushrooms popped out of the ground at the roots of the trees here and there, and curious black squirrels scurried about gathering pine cones and who knows what else to stock away for the winter.

Grenwyn seemed cheerier than usual, and his eyes sparkled and held a zest for life that seemed to grow with each day out of the city. He was heading closer to his homeland, and although he held much love for the forest and sky, being so close to the mountains brought him a sense of nostalgia that he hadn’t felt in many years. Mynix on the other hand, did not appear to feel the same.

Although she had awoken a few hours after the attack, Mynix kept a haunted look in her eyes. Laith had told her that perhaps speaking of what she had seen with her friends would help her, but she refused to speak of it. She kept to herself most of the time, staring off into the trees. She often wandered slightly away from the group, where she would sit in concentration and whisper quietly to herself.

Feryl used her time the same way she had since awakening at Grenwyn’s a little over a year ago. Every day she worked honing herself into a perfect and deadly weapon, although she did not know what she was preparing for. She only knew that it kept her mind in the present, and she worked until her body could give no more, then collapsed into sleep, only to wake up and do it again.

Laith left with them, and stayed with them. While none of them had known him before the night of the attack, he had asked to join them in their journey stating that he had reasons of his own to learn more about the black robed villains, and seeing as a good blade and a sharp bow could always come in handy, the rest of the group had readily agreed. Laith did a bit of everything, he often wandered off on his own, only to come back with wild game, or mushrooms, or fruits and berries to supplement the meager rations they were able to obtain before their flight from town. He would often talk with Grenwyn about the faraway lands they had seen, and the monsters they had fought. He seemed to have a special bond with Mynix as well, and would often sit with her in silence while she stared into the distance, and his presence seemed to comfort her.

Feryl did her best to keep a distance from Laith. Although she liked him, and enjoyed his company, that feeling frightened her. For reasons she did not understand, the thought of accepting a lover terrified her. She still had not remembered any details of her former life and could not have known that her current circumstances, and the sense of dread that accompanied the stirrings she felt for Laith were the result of the betrayal of her lover Dastrius. She often watched Laith longingly across the fire at night, and while he pretended that he didn’t notice, the faint flush that came to the tips of his ears would have exposed his feint to any who were very familiar with elves in general. Feryl was not among those, but Grenwyn was and he watched closely the interactions between the two.

Laith had a lot he had not told them, and it weighed heavily upon his shoulders. His past was a source of great shame to him, and he had shared it with no one in many years. As he walked through the forests nearer to his homeland than he had been in years, a sense of nostalgia and foreboding grew in him. He carried dark secrets and deep sorrows, and thoughts of them grew in his mind as the forest deepened around them. His thoughts carried him back to his childhood home, and the events that had caused him to leave it forever.

When Laith was a child, he had often strayed far from his home. The elders had warned him that trouble would follow his restless soul, but he did not believe them. As he grew older, he grew more and more curious. When he saw humans in the woods, he would follow them, watching them, wishing to learn more. He taught himself common from the few books his tribe had, and eventually desired to visit the human cities. He spoke with his Father of this desire, and was forbidden to ever speak of it again. Yet, even this could not stop his wandering.

One day, while out in the forest, he had come across a group of huntsmen, and decided to engage them in conversation. They were friendly to him, and he ate with them, and as the sun began to sink, he took his leave and bade them farewell. He walked slowly back to his village, not bothering to cover his trail, confident that humans could not follow an elf’s trail in his native land. As the sun sank lower and the full moon began to rise, Laith felt a uneasiness began to grow. He watched the shadows, and listened intently, and though he could find no signs to prove it, he felt as if he were being followed. He reached the edge of the village to find his Father glaring at him. “Have you spoken to anyone tonight?” he asked. Laith could not answer, the words stuck in his throat, but the flush at the tips of his ears told his Father all he needed to know. “Go in the house.” His Father said in a manner that left no room for argument. As Laith lay in bed, trying to figure out how to run away, he heard a snarling and scurrying about outside. He rushed to his window and saw the warriors of the tribe lined up as if for battle, and had just enough time to wonder why before the first wolf pounced.

Laith watched in horror as his sister's mate, Tirnaur engaged the first wolf. It was unlike any wolf he had ever seen, pure black, and larger than normal as well. It fought with ferocity and intelligence. It lunged at Tirnaur, and he batted it aside as if it were a fly, Laith was enthralled with his battle prowess. It lunged again, trying for his leg, but he slashed downward with his sword, while jumping back, and got a clean slash across its shoulder, but it too reacted before serious damage could be done. It looked up at Tirnaur, and Laith could have sworn it smiled. It threw itself at him, all in one motion, but Tirnaur was faster and struck the monster aside, opening the creature from throat to stomach.

The creature fell to the ground, and Tirnaur looked up at Laith, smiling, but Laith’s gaze of pride grew into one of horrow, as the wolf began to melt back into the form of a human, a very familiar looking human, and Laith knew it was he who had led their enemies to the village. Tirnaur had barely registered the look when a great white beast, this one in a form halfway between human and wolf, leaped on him from behind and threw him to the ground. Laith watched in horror as the beast tore out Tirnaur’s throat. Tirnaur’s eyes met Laith’s as his lifeblood soaked the ground, “Tell Elanor farwell,” he mouthed. The light left his eyes, yet Laith could not tear his vision away from the man he had idolized, the hero he thought would never fall, and knew it was as much his fault as if he had set a blade to the mans throat. .

The elders had known some evil was about, and scouts had spotted the pack. The elves were therefore prepared when the werewolves attacked the village, and there were very few casualties, but in creatures who are so long lived, each loss is a great tragedy, and cause for much mourning. His sister Elanor had bonded with Tirnaur only 3 years ago, and she was expecting their first child. Tirnaur had fast grown in reputation and prowess and was expected to lead the village one day. Laith's mistake had brought a lasting pain to his village, and his Father was responsible for reporting his sons transgression.

Laith’s father reluctantly, but stoically went to the elders and confessed his sons betrayal. Laith knew his Father loved him, but with wood elves, the whole village is a family, and knew his Father must do his duty. Yet, he hated him for it. Laith was told that were he to ever leave the bounds of the village again, he was never to return. Laith became an outcast, and he felt more restless than he ever had. He did not wish to speak to his father, and his sister would not speak to him. In the spring she bore a child, Nienun, in common, Sorrow Born. Laith crept into his sisters home, and looked in at the face of his beautiful niece, and resolved to leave the village forever. Near her crib, he left his only treasure, a purple gem fashioned into a flower that he had given his mother before her passing. He left a piece of parchment, stating simply, “I follow my heart to where I cannot harm you. –Egren Laith” Then he left his only home with a heavy heart and a new name.

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of the author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

The Forging Chapter 3: Clouds Gather

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

Then one day they came to the town. Men, monsters really, clad all in black with hints of crimson and gold, brutal and heartless, they infiltrated the town. Through coin and sword, took control of it. The townsfolk called them shadow cloaks on account of their ability to pop up anywhere, and also because of the shady dealings they partook in. Grenwyn was not happy about it, and while he was infuriated when they demanded coins from him as taxes, he had seen how they dealt with dissenters, and was not quite angry enough to face it head on and alone. So it happened that he was drowning his sorrows at the local pub one night, cozily tucked in the back corner, when two of the monsters came in and sat down. At first they seemed content just to listen until one of the drunks, Ristris, started running his mouth off about the mystery woman working at Grenwyn’s blades, and how she was good enough to offer a challenge to the bastards who were ruining their town. Then, their attention was apparently peaked.

The men began asking questions and demanding answers, and to Ristris’ credit, he was beaten nearly to death before they got the answers out of him. Grenwyn snuck out the back door, he knew his adventure was about to begin, and he also knew he needed to get home to warn Feryl. Thus it was that he failed to see the fire blade that removed Ristris’ head from his body, and the cold efficient way the two men dispatched every patron unfortunate enough to be in Lyrin’s Tavern that evening. The men wanted no survivors, no witnesses, no warning.

Grenwyn flew back to his shop as quickly as he could, he prayed to all the gods he knew of that he would be there fast enough. As he rounded the corner to his shop, he heard Mynix’s scream, and knew he had not made it fast enough. Grenwyn summoned all the courage and strength he had, and barreled through the front door. A man in all black stood there, stunned by the interruption, and Grenwyn’s eyes scanned the room to see Mynix lay on the floor gazing up in terror at what appeared to be her own shadow except that it loomed over her like a wolf about to pounce. The action seemed to pause for a moment as everyone took a moment to measure up the situation.

Just then an arrow flew through the window, followed by another, and each extinguished one of the lights in the house. This served two purposes; first, it gave Grenwyn an advantage as he, being gifted with dwarven blood, could see quite well in the dark. Secondly, the extinguishing of the light made it impossible for Mynix to cast a shadow, and though unconscious from the scare, she was safe for at least the moment. Grenwyn didn’t know where the arrows had come from, but he figured he may as well make use of his advantage. Taking his bone hammer from its sheath, Grenwyn engaged with the robed man, who was already in the midst of casting his first spell. Try as he might, Grenwyn could not interrupt the spell casters cadence, and as he pronounced the last word, what seemed to be tendrils of shadow grew up from the floor to entrap the dwarf.

The spellcaster spoke the words to a light cantrip, and stood leering over the dwarf. Grenwyn shivered despite himself when he saw the hungry malice in the robed mans eyes. “Where is the girl?” The robed man asked. Grenwyn knew Feryl must not be present or she certainly would have assisted them by now, so he said, “I don’t know who ye be talking about, but the only girl here is my house wench whom ye seem to have incapacitated, and I will expect to be reimbursed if she does not make a full recovery.” The spellcaster gave Grenwyn a glare, “We know she is with you,” he said. “It is no use trying to protect her; we will find her with your help or without.” Grenwyn knew better,

Gathering his courage, he slowly began to work his way loose of his bindings. “I will make sure those are among the last words you ever speak” Grenwyn said, although in his current predicament he had no way to make that be true. “Why you insolent cur!” the spellcaster started to shout, “I will torture you for longer than you can endure, and then....” Those were indeed the last words he said, other than a few fluid filled gurgles, and it was very apparent why, as Grenwyn saw the point of one of his finest swords poking through the front of the mans throat.

“What took ye so long girl!” Grenwyn said as Feryl began cutting him loose from the shadow tentacles that were already dying with the spellcaster. “I was in the privy,” Feryl joked. “When did you learn how to shoot like that?” Grenwyn asked, but Feryl just looked confused. It was just then that another shadow stepped through the door. “You’re Welcome” he said, as Feryl and Grenwyn turned to face him in unison, blades drawn and ready. “I assure you that you won’t need those most gracious lady, and most surly dwarf” he laughed.

“Allow me to introduce myself, Laith Antuulien, at your service." Feryl couldn’t help but smirk and had to stifle a laugh as the tall elf took a deep bow. Laith pulled off his foppish cap, and his a waterfall of golden curls swept the floor, when he emerged from his bow, there was a merriment about his eyes, and a deviousness in his smirk that reminded Feryl of someone she must have known in that other life that seemed so far away now. There were also the distinctly pointed ears that marked him as elf kin, and for no good reason, Feryl immediately liked him.

Grenwyn paced back and forth nervously as Laith knelt over the still unconscious Mynix. Feryl tried to busy herself by yet again practicing her swordwork. “You said it was as if her own shadow loomed over her, is that correct?” asked Laith “Yes ye durned elf! For the fiftieth time yes! N’if you be hurtin her, yer ears’ll be hangin around me neck before the day is through!” Grenwyn growled and went back to pacing.

“I have heard of a spell like this before….but I had to check a few things to be sure. It uses a dark and uncommon magic to reveal the darkness in yourself, those without a strong spirit, are often killed by merely looking at it. Your Mynix must really be something to have survived this encounter. She will awaken when she conquers her fear. Physically, she is fine, but it is likely to have changed her heart and mind forever.” Laith said, then, curiously, he looked at Feryl and said “Sometimes being touched by such things, awakens a darkness in a person, and that is a very frightening thing.” Feryl felt like he was talking to her, but knew he had no reason to know her story. “That’s why you have to be strong enough to ensure it doesn’t reach you.” She huffed, as she walked out into the night air.

When Grenwyn finally sat down on his stool next to the fire, Laith slowly came up to him, “You know you can’t stay here now.” he whispered. “Aye,” Grenwyn said without looking up. “Is there somewhere safe, someone you can trust to keep the girl safe? She can’t travel in this condition.” Laith asked softly.

“Are ye out of yer mind!?!” Grenwyn exploded “If we’re to be leaving, we’re leaving together. If anyone else comes before she wakes up, we’ll just have to show 'em the same courtesy we showed this fellow.” He said as he gestured towards the corpse of the spell caster. “There is no mercy with these men,” Grenwyn said quietly, “If we leave her here, even somewhere safe, we're leaving her to a slow and painful death.” Laith nodded,

Feryl came back into the room, sweat glistening on her skin, and plastering her still short hair to her face. Laith couldn’t help but gape a little, the woman was solid muscle. He was used to women being frail, and delicate, but Feryl, she looked like her entire being was a weapon. There was not a trace of softness to her, and her eyes glowed with a barely concealed fury, that, quite frankly, frightened him…not that he didn’t enjoy that.

“Pack yer bags,” the dwarf said to her gruffly. For just a moment, all the fury left her eyes, and she seemed a small scared child, she lowered her head, “I’m sorry to have brought trouble to your home, I can never repay you for all the help you have given me.” Her throat caught a bit, and she continued, “This necklace was on me when you found me, it is all I have, but I hope it will be of some worth, and may help repay a portion of my debt to you.”

“Are ye daft girl?” the dwarf rumbled, “Do ye really think after all this time ye’ve kept me waitin that yer goin to be cheatin me out of this adventure! Why do ye think I rescued you! I mean, yer fair n’all for a human, but I like a nice thick beard on my women!” Grenwyn laughed, a rich, hearty sound Feryl had grown to love. It reminded her of good soil, and sun warmed rocks.

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

The Forging Chapter 2: Unexpected Find

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of the author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

Grenwyn the dwarf had been returning to his village from a long trip to sell his wares when he saw the smoke rising on the horizon. He knew better than to walk into that sort of trouble. It could be wizards, or dragons, or even the gods themselves! Grenwyn’s dwarven sensibilities told him not to head into trouble…until after it clears up that is, one never knows what sort of treasures might be lying around.

Grenwyn had been through Sparrow Haven several times on his trips. It was a small town, nestled in a ring of small mounds on a wide open plain. Although the city lacked the protection that rivers, forests, and mountains offered, it was often overlooked because it was difficult to see. The people of Sparrows Haven weren’t very apt to make it more visible either. They happy to be hidden away from the world, and protected from the attention of the always hungry larger empires, and the population consisted mostly of paranoid or weary nobles who had sought the peace and solitude such an existence offered.

The cautious dwarf slowly made his way to the source of the smoke, and when the suns sank behind the distant ruins, he crept over the ridge to investigate. The utter devastation he saw made him gasp, and nearly fall backward down the hill. He cursed as only a dwarf can, and crawled back to the lip of the ridge. Everything was leveled to the ground, so he could see there were no visible enemies about. The gleam in his eye would have told anyone who cared to look, that he thought the chance of plunder far outweighed the risk of discovery in this dwarfs mind.

Grenwyn made his way through what was once the city of Sparrow Haven sifting through the ashes and pulling out anything he found of value. The night had been eerily silent thus far, so when he heard a low hungry growl, he jumped as high as a dwarf has ever jumped, and drew his bone white hammer. His own pulse sounded in his ears and he felt that his untimely demise was likely near, but true to his heritage, he did not plan to go down without a fight. The sound came again, but fainter this time, and more like a whimper than a growl. As he slowly rounded the corner, he saw the source of the sound, and had to bite back a laugh at his hysteria.

On the ground in front of him lay a young woman, most of her hair was singed off and she was covered more in blood than in the burned remains of her clothing. Though unconscious, she did not appear peaceful, and Grenwyn had the eerie feeling that the rage that burned inside of her could have fueled a dwarven forge. He cursed softly when he saw the wounds she bore. Grenwyn knew then that he would help this woman, because such a rage must be the start of an adventure, and he hadn’t had one of those in a good long time.

Grenwyn had hauled the woman back to town with him, along with the few things he found that would be of use or value. Grenwyn was successful enough to afford a house girl, Mynix, who was surprised and a bit perturbed when he dumped the unconscious woman on the bed and said “Fix this,” and stumbled off to his counting room.

Mynix was a plain girl, but had a spirit about her that made her seem to glow. This was why Grenwyn had picked her, but also why she was not chosen my one of the nobler households. Though Grenwyn was a bit surly, and more than a bit gruff, they had come to care for each other in a very familial manner, and so Mynix carefully went about “fixing,” the stranger.

Grenwyn ran a small shop lovingly entitled “The Demon’s Kitchen,” in the small town of Harpsail. Harpsail was on the coast about 3 days travel from Sparrows Haven. One might say it was bustling, which was strange for a place so small, however, many ships often stopped there on the way to and from bigger harbors in the trade season. One thing that made Harpsail a bit different from other cities was that from the edge of the harbor to the heart of town, everyone lived at about the same level of wealth.There were no slums, and no mansions, just clean small homes, and modest shops. That isn’t to say there was no crime, drunkenness, or other debauchery, because it was a port city after all, but the criminal element simply conducted itself in a respectable manner, and were treated the same.

Grenwyn’s shop was near the heart of town, but just off the main thoroughfare, and that’s just the way he liked it. Grenwyn knew that if he made quality goods, people would find him wherever he kept his shop. He didn’t like the causal browser pestering him, or gawking at wares they had no intention of buying. Grewnwyn lived a modest life, at a modest pace, and although happy, he was terribly bored.

The woman awoke to the steady sounds of a forge, and the cool feel of a damp cloth gently wiping the grime away from her face. She tried to sit up, but found the pain too severe, and ended up coughing instead. As her eyes found focus, she met the round curious eyes of Mynix, who simply stated, “Well Met.” The woman tried to smile, but found it only made her blistered lips crack, and she winced at the pain and fell back into darkness.

It seemed she had floated forever in and out of the void, somewhere between consciousness and oblivion. She heard voices calling to her, but she did not go to them, she wanted to stay in this realm of solitude, she did not want to face the reality of all she had lost. She was also more than a bit scared of the looming rage she sensed within herself. It was as if she had been transformed into a weapon. She knew that unconsciousness was the only thing holding back the tide of vengeance, and she was afraid of what she would do when it awakened. The vengeance seemed to devour everything else she once was, and when she awoke, she knew nothing of her prior life.

It had now been a few days since she had awoke, and although Mynix and Grenwyn were curious, they respected her privacy, she did not ask any questions, nor they of her. Grenwyn told himself he did not tell her how he had found her because she might go crazy and trash his shop, but the truth was, he did not want her to suffer from the terrible truth of her past. Either the will of her inner self or trauma of her injuries, had caused her to lose her memory, and as she effectively had no name, Grewyn had taken to calling her Feryl, because the growls she had made while unconscious, had reminded him of a wild cat.

Despite all that had happened, she was beginning to feel a fondness for Grenwyn and especially Mynix. She worked gathering wood for Grenwyn’s forge, and found that she was quite capable at demonstrating the fine weapons he made. Though she had no idea why, when, or how, she soon found she was an expert in blades of all types. She worked helping Grenwyn during the day, and after dinner, she would help Mynix with the dishes, and when they were finished, she would practice her blade work.

This was how they passed nearly a year, working and living together. Although Feryl was happy, she could not help but have a sense of foreboding that something evil remained from her past, remained within her even. As she tried to suppress the growing sense of dread, she turned more and more to her sword work. Her sessions became longer and longer, and she fought against no one, like a trapped animal fighting for its very life. She practiced until her muscles grew strong like the steel swords made by Grewyn. Her sword work became of dance of death and beauty. She grew stronger and more vital. Her burns and lungs began to heal, and her hair began to grow back. Each day she healed a little more, and each day she became more deadly.

Many from the town came to marvel at her blade work, and many bought the fine weapons Grewyn made. Feryl often wondered at the bone white hammer Grenwyn carried, and why he would choose such a thing over the fine metal weapons he made. Luckily she had the sense not to ask about it. Grenwyn grumbled to himself at the renewed interest. Although business had never been better, he couldn’t help but think that all this attention might bring danger to Feryl. At the same time, he couldn’t deny her the pleasure of doing something she saw as helpful. Even Mynix seemed to be blossoming under the throng of curious onlookers. She was always smiling as she bandied about, speaking with this sailor here, and that captain there. “Bah,” Grenwyn said to himself, “that’s just yer dwarven paranoia again, bein used to stayin under the ground and werkin by yerslef, it was likely an accident, and no one’ll be lookin for the poor girl. Or maybe even if someone does find her, it’ll be someone she is wantin to be seeing.”

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of the author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

The Forging Chapter 1: The End and Beginning

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)

It was pitch black for as far as she could see, she lay on the smoldering ground, and was thankful for all the smoke, it kept her from seeing the complete devastation that had befallen her homeland. Her friends, family, her whole town, gone in what seemed like the blink of an eye.

Her strength had given out some time back, the heat too much for her to take. Her pale skin was reddened and raw, blackened tufts were all that remained of her once beautiful red hair. Each breath brought a searing pain to her already overtaxed lungs. She thought she might die lying on the ground there, and a part of her would welcome it. She would have run if she could, just to deny him the satisfaction of seeing the look on her face, but she had nothing left to propel her. She had spent her energies in the futile act trying to save the few people who had survived the initial assault. She choked and gagged on the overwhelming scents of blood, burnt hair, and burnt flesh, some of which she knew was her own.

When the smoke began to clear away, and she knew he was coming for her. He, who destroyed everything she cared for, Dastrius, the man that prior to this day, she had loved with all her soul. Her spirit broke anew at the thought of his betrayal. What had she done to deserve this? All her life she had wished for adventure, practiced with blades, and played at being a hero. Here though, in her one chance to prove her abilities, she had failed completely and miserably. She deserved to die, wished to, but as she saw her doom approaching, she knew it would not be that easy.

A man walked toward her with a malevolent grin on his face, one she had never seen there in the time they were together. Dastrius was his name, and he appeared as everything a man should be, tall, muscular, but not too, with coal black hair, ice blue eyes, and an aura that bespoke power and mystery. Now, however, it was as if a charm had been lifted and she no longer saw his beauty, only raw, unrelenting hunger.

If there had truly been good in him once, as she had thought, it was entirely gone now. She felt her stomach lurch at the thought she had lain with such a thing. He laughed when he saw this, then reached down to stroke her face in a manner that at first appeared tender, but then his fingers like talons of ice, latched hard onto her jaw. He directed her face so that she had to view a panorama of the destruction. He then turned her face to look at his own. It made her feel filthy and violated as his icy eyes seemed to penetrate her, mock her weakness, and thrill at her sorrow. She somehow summoned the courage to look back into his, and not back down. His eyes narrowed at this, and then he laughed, and the sound was not at all pleasant.

“Your have given much pleasure to me, and therefore I will spare your life.” Dastrius said. “Your sorrow is sweet to me, and I thank you for it.” Inside, she felt as if she could explode, he seemed to savor her anguish and she was furious at herself for giving him the satisfaction. As she began to sink into the darkness, her pain, anguish, and sorrow became as one, and this mass of emotion turned to utter, remorseless rage, the rage of which legends are born.

(Note: This story and all characters within are the sole property of author, and is under the protection of United States copyright law)