Chapter 15

Family Descent

Book One �" Divergence

Part I �" Novices

Chapter 15

October 1657

 

            “Hsst,” Rewen raised his right hand over his head stopping the advance of the small groups of elves. The late evening sunlight filtered faintly through the close canopy overhead as the small group came to a stop. Korrie, along with Estarin and five other elves drew together in a small circle with Rewen.

            “Over the next rise, one hundred yards hence, is the small clearing where the ogres are encamped.” Rewen said in a low voice; his words coming on white clouds in the chill October air. All were dressed in leather with elven cloaks wrapped round to keep away the chill and provide camouflage amongst the forest trees on this eastern bound of the wood.

            They had left their mounts a mile back and had traveled on foot to this spot. A day earlier, a scout had reported the small band of ogres within the wood. Rewen’s small group of warriors had been sent to deal with the invaders and Estarin went along to lend magical support. Korrie had begged to come along and Estarin finally relented insisting that Korrie remain clear of the battle zone.

            The battle ground was known to the elves as Gambrils’ Glade for several centuries ago did the druid Gambril tend the grove surrounding the clearing. At its center was a well spring. A dozen ogres were reported by the scout; an easy mark for the six elven warriors and one elven mage.

            Korrie crouched in the circle blowing into his cupped hands as Rewen repeated his plan to the party. Caleel would slip to the right and Aramat to the left to deal with the sentries posted by the ogres. Then at a signal the warriors with Eastarin behind would raid the encampment. Korrie inwardly chaffed but said naught. The Voice however did not remain silent.

            “Pah, they deny your right,” said the Voice, “Shackled you are like a truant hound.” Korrie ignored the Voice.

            At the appointed time Caleel and Aramat slipped away in opposite directions. Hunched behind the low rise only did the occasional sounds of the ogre camp come to waiting ears. Korrie could make out no words only the mummer of guttural, glottal speech and once a barked command. Then came the sound a owl’s call from the right. It was answered by a similar call from the left. Caleel and Aramat had succeeded in dispatching the sentries.

            Rewen raised his hand again and swung it forward, “Now!” he commanded and he and the other three warriors surged over the rise with slender elven swords in hand. Estarin leapt after and then Korrie followed after but stopped at the top of the rise as he had been instructed. He watched as the five ran silently to the glade, the ogres as yet unaware of the attack upon them.

            When the quintet was just steps away from the glade, deadly elven arrows flew into the glade from left and right and two ogres fell; one struck in the chest, the other in the throat. The remainder cried out and scanned the perimeter. One looked straight at the oncoming elves but before he could call out he was felled by Rewen’s sword.

            The battle was engaged. In the center of the glade, near the small campfire the ogres had set, one of the tall, heavily muscled monsters brought an elk horn to its lips and it blew a blatting call. Before it sound its horn again, three silver sizzling darts struck it full in the chest and it was thrown back several feet to land on its back; three smoking holes all that remained of the bolts.

            The remaining ogres were all engaged and Korrie breathed a sigh of relief as it seemed the elves would be victorious, but to his ears came the sound of crashing through the wood and shouts in the same gruff speech. The ogre’s horn had called in reinforcements that the scout had not reported.

            “Ware foe! Ware!” he called out to the elves just as several dozen ogres entered the glade from the east. He saw Elistan turn and begin casting but, too, did an ogre spot the spell caster and Elistan fell to the ground stricken in the arm but a thrown club; his casting interrupted. The elven warriors whirled to face the new foe. Nearly outnumbered six to one the warriors nevertheless remained stalwart. Grim-faced they stood their ground as the ogres jeered.

 

            Without conscious thought Korrie strode through the trees toward the glade. His eyes focused on the band of ogres. In white plumes sound words flowed past his lips murmuring the sounds of iron and rubber and snakes and arms. Too, he whispered the sounds of strength and binding and twisting and grasping. He faintly heard Elistan’s voice shout out his name but he did not register it consciously or give it heed.

            He saw several of the ogres turn to look at him, but he slowed not and it was too late for them to act. He paused and brought his hands together as if to pray but his fingers spread apart and he wiggled them as he brought them higher. His sound words reached a crescendo and from the leaf-littered ground beneath the ogre’s hob-nailed boots a dozen large black tentacles burst upward writhing and thrashing all ‘round. The glade rang with cries and shouts of fear from the ogres.

            Ebon dull were the waving arms but like rubber did they twist; and they grasped and bound ogres. Ogre bodies sailed through the air as the tentacles discarded those crushed and strangled in their iron-like grasp. Some ogres tried to flee but they were brought down by elven bow and knife and sword. Others tried to hew the tentacles with their heavy swords and hammers, but little damage did these weapons against the aethêric creations. All the while, Korrie remained stone still, his concentration fixed upon maintaining the spell.

            Finally no enemy remained standing but still the tentacles wavered and whipped searching blindly for more targets.

            “No more, Korrie,” Elistans’ voice came in a whisper. Korrie felt a hand upon his arm. He exhaled sharply and the tentacles vanished. He looked ‘round and saw that it was Elistan who held his arm. Elistan’s face wavered in Korrie’s sight and blackness encroached on his vision. Dizziness made him unsteady and he leaned against his wesla. A sharp pain in his head caused him to gasp, but after a moment the pain passed and the dizziness. He stood up straight and looked Elistan in the eyes and started to smile but the anger in Elistan’s eyes stopped the smile before it was born.

 

            The elves gathered together the slain ogres and piled the monstrous bodies together on a pyre in the center of glade well away from the trees surrounding the clearing. Elistan set the pyre aflame and they watched a short while in silence.

            They then set out for Chevranta and while the warriors talked among themselves throughout the three hour journey, Elistan said nought to his apprentice. Korrie, for his part remained tightly wrapped in his cloak and in silence at the end of the line of horses. As he rode along his eyes were ever on Elistan’s back which was rigid in the saddle. Korrie was confused; his frown deep and furrows on his forehead. Elistan’s mood was a mystery. Korrie had been elated that he had cast the complicated spell with very little ill effect. In fact, within a few minutes of the spell’s end he felt perfectly well.

 

            They arrived back in Chevranta an hour after the sun had set. Neither of the moons was in the sky and, as the party descended the path into the valley, stars glittered overhead and in the crystal mere below. They arrived at the stables commonly used by all the residents of Chevranta and they saw to the care of all the steeds.

            Sharp was the chill in the air as the warriors departed and Elistan strode along the path back to his home; Korrie following along behind in silence. When they reached the tree in which Elistan dwelt, he hissed a word and lifted gently and silently to alight on the porch. Korrie followed suit. When he stepped into the dwelling and closed the door he found Elistan already removing his cloak.

            Without a word the Archmage went to the small kitchen at the back of the aerial cottage and with a word, lit the well insulated stove and set a kettle of water on top of it. He returned to the main room as Korrie was hanging both cloaks on pegs behind the door. When Korrie turned around Elistan was waiting.

            “What in the names of all the gods did you think you were doing?” Elistan demanded with barely concealed anger causing his normally tranquil voice to sound harsh.

            “I was protecting you and the others,” Korrie answered.

            “That spell is easily as complex as the fire wall, if not more so,” Elistan said. “You recall the fire wall do you not? That spell that nearly proved your undoing just months past.”

            “Yes I remember the spell, wesla,” Korrie answered frustration coloring his tone. “But you saw with your own eyes I was not so affected this time.”

            “That is not the point!” Elastin fairly shouted at his student. “You did not know it would be so and I specifically forbade you casting any spell of that complexity and you disobeyed my instruction.” Korrie shrank back at the fierceness displayed by his normally calm and genial mentor. Elistan took a deep breath then let it out slowly and he calmed himself.

            “I understand why you did it, Korrie,” Elistan said at last much more gently. “Rest assured that I and others are truly grateful. Too, I am greatly impressed by your successful casting of that unpracticed spell and much relieved that it did not prove ill for you.” He then turned toward the kitchen as the kettle signaled that the water was ready with a shrill whistle. “Sit, sit,” Elistan said over his shoulder as he removed the kettle from the heat. Korrie sat in one of the carved wing-backed chairs in the parlor. He listened to Elistan in the kitchen as the mage dumped a measure of tea leaves into a pot and filled it with the hot water from the kettle. A moment later he came back into the parlor with the teapot and two cups on a wood tray that he set on a small carved wood table.

            “You understand, do you not, that none are familiar with the peculiarities of the affliction from which you suffer?” Elistan asked as he spooned honey from a small pot into each cup.

            “Yes, welsa, I do,” answered Korrie. Elistan nodded and sat back in the chair to give the tea time to steep.

            “No one knows what limits the syndrome imposes on you and none can predict how carrying degrees of interaction with the aethêric will affect you,” Elistan continued. “We must take time to learn these things and only by carefully progressing by small steps can we do so safely.”

            “It is frustrating beyond endurance, welsa,” Korrie said clenching a fist.

            “I know, talar, I know,” Elistan answered. “Try to be patient; we’ll work through it.”

 

            They sat in silence for many minutes, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally Elistan took up the teapot and poured both cups. He handed one to Korrie and the young man sipped gratefully at the warm brew for the chill of night ride had settled. Elistan sipped at his tea as well, and then he cleared his throat.

            “Ienya does say we will see the first snowfall within a tenday,” he said. Korrie grunted in response.

            “Ieyna seems quite skilled in the prediction of the weather,” he replied. They finished their tea while engaged in idle conversation about the changing of the seasons within the vale and other topics unrelated to magecraft or Korrie’s trespass of the bond between wesla and talar. At last Korrie set the empty cup on the table.

            “With your permission, wesla, I would retire,” he said. “It has been a long day.” Elistan cast an appraising glance at the lad seeking for hidden signs of distress caused by the casting but saw nought but weariness etched on Korrie’s face.

            “Go and rest, Korrie,” Elistan said after a moment, “I will see in the morning.”

            “Good night, Elistan,” Korrie said and climbed the spiral branch stair to his own room.

 

            He entered his room and closed the wood door behind. The room was dark but a whispered sound word caused a small glowing globe of dim light to appear hovering in the center of the room near the ceiling.

            “Did I not tell you?!” crowed the Voice. Korrie groaned as he lit the small brazier in the corner of the cold room.

            “What did you tell me?” Korrie asked absently as he sat on the edge of the bed and removed his riding boots.

            “You saw how reacted,” the Voice stated incredulously. “He was furious at what you had done.”

            “He had every right to be furious. I had disobeyed his instructions,” Korrie replied as he padded barefoot across the room to place his boots by the door.

            “He was furious because you demonstrated your superior ability,” the Voice argued.

            Korrie sat back on the bed and began undressing but did not reply.

            “The old fool faltered and was unable to best his foe. The warriors would have been obliterated, but you saved them,” the Voice continued unabated. Korrie wadded up his tunic and threw it into a dark corner.

            “You, the apprentice, bested the master, and he was not amused.” Korrie’s breeches joined the tunic in the corner and slipped into the cold bed.

            “Do you listen to me?” demanded the Voice. Korrie whispered a sound word and the mage globe vanished leaving the room dark save for the soft reddish glow of the brazier.

            “Mark my words, the restrictions will continue. Still you will be treated as an untrained magician,” the Voice went on as Korrie folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Korrie ignored the Voice and invoked a deep meditation that eased him into a troubled sleep; troubled by the Voice which continued to assail him in his dreams.