THE DOWNPOUR CAME UPON THEM without warning. Within minutes, Calen's hair was matted to his face, and his skin had begun to shrivel as the water soaked him through to the bone. He lifted his hand to cover his eyes from the onslaught of rain as he stared up at the sky. The thick, charcoal-black clouds looked as if they would cave under the weight of the rain they held within their fragile frame. He dropped his eyes to survey the sight in front of him. He had never seen anything quite like it.
Just as they planned, the eerie ocean of woodland that was the Darkwood had come into view just as the sun retired beyond the horizon. As far as Calen could see, and farther beyond again, the landscape was painted in muddled brush strokes of dark green and blackish-blue. The only thing illuminating the eldritch woodland was the cracks of lightning that tore through the sky above, momentarily exposing the flocks of jet-black birds that weaved in and out of the deluge.
Calen had heard many tales of the Darkwood. Terrifying stories of monsters and voidspawn. Of a forest that consumed souls and stripped flesh from bones. Even those stories did not compare to the sinking feeling in his gut as he looked down over the sinister woodland.
"Keep moving," Aeson shouted. "The canopy will break the rainfall."
Calen felt irritation from Valerys. The dragon cocooned himself in his wings and shuffled around on the back of the saddle. Calen gave his horse a tap on the ribs with his heel, urging it into a fast canter. The rain stung Calen's face as they picked up speed, making him wince. His eyes were more closed than open.
He only realised that they had reached the edge of the forest by the sudden relief he felt on his skin and the change in sound. The harsh cracking of rain on his coat gave way to a duller sound as it barrelled down on the canopy above. It gave him the same familiar, calming feeling of sitting inside when the skies emptied rivers down upon The Glade, of being sheltered as the rain drummed on the walls and windows.
Calen sighed, wiping the water from his face. He rolled his shoulders back and surveyed the dense canopy above. He had underestimated the utter blackness that would consume them in this forest. Even if the moon wasn't
imprisoned by the wall of charcoal clouds above, its light would not have been able to penetrate the aphotic roof of the dense woodland. The darkness made him feel trapped.
It was disorienting how the absence of sight heightened his other senses.
He could not see past the ears of his horse, but even the soft susurration of the branches felt heavy in his ears. The overpowering scent of loam and decomposing leaves mixed with the mouldy dampness of tree bark permeated his nostrils.
A sigh of relief escaped his chest when the glow of white light illuminated the space in front of him. The small floating baldír pulsated as it held its position about four feet in front of Calen. A similar orb hovered in front of each person in the group. That is a handy trick. It was not something that he wanted to try on his own. He hadn't tried to touch the Spark since the river. He would have to ask Aeson to show him how it was done.
"The path to the mountain pass is less than a day's ride from here,"
Aeson said. There was a twist of irritation on his face as he squeezed firmly on his coat sleeve, releasing a stream of water that had soaked into the fabric. "Within this forest, day or night matters not. There are few places where the light penetrates the canopy, but we still need sleep and to dry out our clothes, or else the cold will set into our bones. We will carry on for another hour or so, and then we will stop. I think the horses have that much left in them." He patted his horse on the neck with affection and received a soft neigh in response.
Calen felt the occasional chill on the back of his neck as small droplets of rain dripped through the dense canopy. The deeper they went into the forest, the heavier the air became – not in the ethereal way it did in Ölm Forest, but in a more tangible sense. Although the canopy held the deluge above at bay, it also kept the dampness of the soil and the bark from escaping. He could taste the thickness of the moisture in the air as it hit the back of his throat with each breath.
There was something about a forest, especially one so devoid of light, that caused time to pass differently. Everywhere Calen looked was indistinguishable to what he had seen five minutes before, as if he hadn't moved an inch. He heard the occasional flapping of wings amongst the branches, often drowned out by the cracks of thunder that followed the
lightning strikes in the sky above. Had he been on his own, he did not think he would ever find his way out.
"This looks like as good a place as any," Dahlen called, hopping down from his horse. "We could walk for hours here and not find anything different."
There was a murmur of agreement amongst the group.
Valerys yawned and lifted his head to survey the area. He leapt down from the back of the horse and stretched out his wings, as if they were groggy from sleep.
"Calen, Dann, sword forms," Aeson said firmly. He tossed his saddle bags to the ground and drew one of his blades from across his back.
"Now?" Dann sighed, "Can't we sort a fire first, dry ourselves out a bit?
These clothes feel like a sack of stones."
"No," Aeson replied. "We rarely fight on our own terms, so that is how we must train. Sword forms. Begin from Striking Dragon ." Dann sighed heavily, then threw back his head and pulled his sword from its scabbard. Calen did the same. His thighs and back were a mixture of numbness and agony. He had never ridden a horse so much in his life. The rain didn't help. He took a deep breath as he entered the starting position for Striking Dragon . Some of the forms' names were beginning to stick in his head. Not all of them, but some of them. It was a start.
"Again."
The word shook Calen's resolve. They had been practicing sword forms for over an hour while the others sat by the fire, awaiting the warm meat of a small boar that Therin had found skulking around the campsite. His shoulders cried out in pain as the sword grew heavier and heavier. It felt as though his muscles were on fire. Calen focused on his breathing. He swung the blade downward in one long sweep and sidestepped an imaginary strike.
He brought the blade back up for a parry and then drove it into the ghostly attacker's abdomen.
"Stop."
His knees dropped into the damp ground. A wave of relief flooded over him. Pangs of hunger punched at his stomach. His skin burned from where the damp clothes had chafed the inside of his legs.
"Dann, go warm yourself and eat." Aeson turned towards the campfire, a glint in his eye. "Dahlen. You will spar with Calen. Now."
Dahlen responded with a look of confusion as he rubbed his hands over each other in front of the flames. "What, now? Look at him. He needs to rest—"
"Now."
Calen dug the point of his sword into the ground and dragged himself to his feet. He didn't speak. He didn't have the effort left in him to argue. Is hetrying to kill me? He felt concern tipping at the back of his mind. Valerys's lavender eyes watched him from atop the trunk of a fallen tree.
"Yes, sir," Dahlen replied. He pulled one of his swords from its scabbard, which stood propped against his saddlebags. Calen stood up straight and heaved his sword upright. He didn't stand a chance. Dahlen raised his sword up in front of his face. "Ready?"
Calen responded with a nod. He wasn't wasting his energy on speaking.
Dahlen's first strike was heavy. The shockwave jarred Calen's forearms.
His shoulders burned as he parried the blow. Calen didn't have the strength to counterattack, and his fingers loosened on the handle of his sword with every deflected blow.
Dahlen swung a vicious sideswipe, and Calen leapt backwards to avoid it. His left leg collapsed from exhaustion under his own weight. His knee crashed into the muddied ground. He was done. He had no strength left. It infuriated him. The last person he wanted to concede to was Dahlen.
Anybody but him.
A warm feeling washed over him. He felt Valerys at the back of his mind, pushing him, willing him strength. He noticed Therin and Aeson exchange a look. Calen risked a glance over at the young dragon. He stood fully on his hind legs, his eyes fixed on Calen, his teeth showing as his mouth twisted into a snarl. Calen heard the rumble coming from Valerys's throat.
Dahlen's downstroke swept through the air. Calen brought his blade up to meet it mid-swing. The newfound strength flooded relief through his muscles, and he sprang to his feet. A confused look set into Dahlen's face.
He thought Calen had given up.
They traded blows back and forth. Calen pressed, running through the forms, his sword a flurry of movement. Then Dahlen pressed, pushing Calen onto the back foot. It went like this for several minutes, but even with the new push of energy, Calen knew that he wasn't a match for Dahlen. He already felt exhaustion creeping back into his bones.
He couldn't lose, not to Dahlen.
Calen pushed away one of Dahlen's blows and leapt backwards, urging him to follow. He took the bait. When Dahlen attempted to make up the ground between them, Calen reached out to the Spark, doing as Therin had said. He could see the ball of energy floating in a sea of black. Twisting and turning in on itself. The elemental strands called out to him.
He drew on threads of Water, Earth, and Fire. Calen drew the moisture from the damp soil, freezing it in place. Unable to halt his momentum, Dahlen's foot slid across the ice. He hit the ground with a thud. Calen stood over him, the tip of his blade resting against Dahlen's chest, a satisfied smirk on his face.
Dahlen's face furrowed in fury. He swatted Calen's sword away with his hand. "What the fuck was that?" he roared as he leapt to his feet.
Calen felt a pang of guilt in his chest. "I…"
"No, seriously, you think that's okay?" Dahlen shouted, pushing Calen.
Anger replaced the guilt. Calen heard Valerys shriek as he glared at Dahlen.
Their anger was shared.
"Stop this. Right now!" roared Aeson. "You are both no longer children.
Have you not seen your eighteenth summer? Have you not seen death?" His voice flowed with authority as he stepped between the two young men.
"You," he said, pointing at Calen, "this was a test of swordsmanship, not of a new gift that you do not understand. Do that again while practicing and consider this arrangement null and void."
Calen hung his head in shame.
Aeson turned towards Dahlen. "And you," he said, "you know better.
Situations change. Circumstances vary. Your environment can be your friend one second and your enemy the next. If that were a real battle, you would be dead. We will face enemies who can do far worse things than that with the Spark."
Aeson stormed off towards the fire. The anger in Calen's chest did not subside entirely. It flickered, like a candle running out of wax, but it endured. He stomped past Dahlen and took a seat between Erik and Dann.
"Don't hold it against him," Erik said. He handed Calen a hunk of boar meat and some small slices of cheese wrapped in a cloth. Erik shrugged.
"He doesn't like losing."
Calen nodded absently. He took a swig from his waterskin, panting heavily. "Yeah…"
"So… you're a mage now too? Am I the only one who isn't?" Absorbed in his own dark mood, Calen had forgotten that Dann was there. He realised that with everything that had happened in the past few weeks, he hadn't talked to Dann properly. The anger faded, and the guilt returned.
"I'm sorry. I haven't been myself. I should have told you. I'm not a mage… Therin said that it has something to do with the bond between Valerys and me."
The young dragon made his way over to the three young men, dropping himself in a curled ball in front of the fire. The glow of his snow-white scales was almost hypnotic.
"You named him?"
Calen felt another pang of guilt. One more thing he hadn't thought to tell his friend. "Sorry, Dann. My head has been up in the sky. I only decided on it last night. It means 'ice' in the Old Tongue."
Dann smiled. "It suits him." He nodded and looked at Valerys, who was now tearing into one of the boar's legs. It didn't seem to bother him whether or not the meat was cooked. Although, he attacked it with more enthusiasm when it was cooked.
Calen felt a rumble of anger when he saw Dahlen sitting on the other side of the fire, glaring at him as he ate. He quashed it. He was too hungry to be angry.
"You're getting better," Erik said. His tone was not condescending, but sincere. "You could hold your own when we met you, more than I would have guessed. But now you are starting to understand the sword, instead of just holding it. I don't know if that makes sense, but—"
"It does. Thank you," Calen interrupted, giving Erik an appreciative smile. Erik had been nothing but friendly to him, even though Calen had a frayed relationship with Dahlen. He was a good man.
Calen, Erik, and Dann chatted for a while, sitting around the fire until the cold was drawn from their bones and their clothes had dried to a point that they no longer sloshed when they walked. It was the first time in what felt like a lifetime that Calen could step out of his own mind and just relax. That was why, when he felt sleep tugging at his eyelids, he tried to fight it as much as he could.
"I'm going to get some sleep now," Aeson announced. "Dahlen, Erik, you two can take first guard. I will leave the baldír around the perimeter, so you can see better. If anything moves, wake us. There are few things in this
forest without sharp teeth. The rest of you, I would advise getting some sleep."
"I will stand guard with them," Therin called. "I am not so tired, and an extra pair of eyes will not hurt. Especially in this place."
Aeson shrugged his shoulders softly. "Okay. Wake us in a few hours, so you can get some sleep yourselves." With that, he lay himself down by the fire, pulling his blanket roll up around him.
Erik grabbed his swords from atop his saddle bags and slung them over his back, along with his bow and quiver. "I will see you in a few hours," he said, clapping both Calen and Dann on the shoulders. He moved off to take up position at the edge of the camp.
"I'm going to follow Aeson's lead," Dann said. "I get the feeling that this journey isn't going to get any easier. I, for one, am going to need some sleep to get through it."
Calen felt a nudge at the side of his leg. "I know, I know. I'll get some sleep."
He ran his hand down the spines on Valerys's back, receiving a rumbling purr in reply.
"Uraks!"
The shout pierced through the night, jolting Calen awake. It took half a second for the grogginess to clear from his mind. His eyes were still in a hazy blur. The ringing shrieks of steel colliding with steel brought him back to the waking world. He leapt to his feet, only just stopping himself from tumbling to the ground as he tripped over a loose tree root. His brain was still in a scattered daze.
Calen saw flashes of fighting everywhere. Erik and Dahlen stood back-to-back twenty feet away. Uraks, their hulking forms illuminated by the light from the baldír, surrounded them.
Aeson weaved through a stream of leathery grey skin, the ground around him wet with blood. Calen couldn't see Therin, but there were far too many bodies on the ground filled with arrows for Dann alone.
My sword.
Calen ripped his sword from its scabbard just in time to block the first blow that nearly caught him in the head. Only a warning in the back of his mind from Valerys allowed him to spin on his heels and block the blow. The force sent him stumbling backwards, cursing as he tried to stabilise himself.
The Urak turned its attention to Valerys, whose shriek in response was more that of a wolf cub trying to howl than it was a war cry. The young dragon didn't stand a chance.
Calen launched himself through the air, catching the Urak off its guard when he crashed into its side. There was a moment when he thought the massive creature would not budge. It was like trying to knock over a wall.
But luck was on his side. The creature lost its balance, and they both tumbled over Calen's saddlebags and down onto the damp forest floor.
It took Calen only a moment to react once they hit the floor. He did not wait for the Urak to regain its bearings. Throwing himself up onto his knees, he grasped the hilt of his sword with both hands and drove it down through the creature's chest. He felt the crunch of bone as the sword found home. He pushed down harder. Blood spluttered from the creature's mouth.
It's dead. Get up!
Calen heaved the sword free from the Urak's limp corpse. His heart boomed claps of thunder. The camp was in chaos. Uraks were everywhere.
Snap.
Calen spun around, not hesitating as he drove his sword straight through the belly of another onrushing Urak. He didn't wait to see the body drop.
Pulling the sword free, he looked down to make sure Valerys was by his side. Hatred pulsated from the dragon.
A guttural roar dragged Calen's attention to his left, just in time to block the Urak's thick, blackened blade. Again, twice, three times. The beast kept coming. The strength of its strikes jarred Calen's arms. He blocked another blow, only to be caught off-guard when the creature planted its leathery grey shoulder into his chest.
He hit the ground faster than he understood what was happening. His head hit off something. Hard. It erupted in a piercing pain. He saw stars. A blurry haze clouded his vision. The only thing he could see were the crimson eyes of the creature as it stood over him, its blade in the air.
"Calen!"
Something plunged into the Urak's neck. Blood spurted in all directions.
An arrow.
Calen shook his head, blinking furiously as he tried to clear his vision.
The Urak coughed and spluttered, choking on its own blood as it staggered forward. Even with the shaft of the arrow buried in its neck, the creature
lifted its jagged blade back to full height; its hate-filled stare was fixed on Calen.
A piercing shriek sliced through the air. Calen just about made out Valerys's silhouette as he leapt at the Urak's face, rending bone with its claws and tearing away chunks of flesh with its teeth. Fury consumed the dragon.
Calen pushed himself to his knees as his vision cleared. He felt Valerys's fury pulsing through his veins. The dragon stood on top of the Urak's now prone body, his claws still tearing away at its torso. The red of the creature's blood stood stark against Valerys's white scales.
"Calen." Dann now stood over him, his arm outstretched. Calen took it, heaving himself to his feet. "Are you okay?" Dann panted as he tried to catch his breath.
"I'm okay. What happened—"
Dann howled as a jagged black spear pierced through his right shoulder, lifting him off his feet. Calen swung himself around Dann, bringing his sword down across the shaft of the spear. He snapped it clean in half, allowing Dann to fall to his knees.
Without hesitating, Calen swung his blade in an upward arc towards the Urak holding the now-broken spear. It deflected the blow with its thick iron vambraces, then stabbed the shattered spear shaft at Calen.
Calen felt himself subconsciously reaching for the Spark. His lungs burned and chest pounded. Sweat streamed down his face. He drew heavily on threads of Fire, embracing the warmth as it flooded his body.
Burn.
A column of flames erupted from Calen's left hand as he thrust it towards the towering beast. The flames burst forward, consuming the Urak from head to toe. The whole campsite lit up like a signal fire. He felt the Spark flooding through him; it touched every corner of his mind. The Fire called to him, yearned for him to take more. No. Stop! Calen let go of the threads of Fire as the energy leeched from his bones.
His knees shook as they struggled to hold his weight. The putrid aroma of charred flesh filled his nostrils in seconds.
He turned back to Dann, unable to look at the blackened remains of the Urak. The sound of its skin crackling and popping filled his eardrums. Dann was in a heap on the ground, the tip of the spear still jutting from his
shoulder. Fear bolted through Calen's heart. "Dann!" He dropped to his knees beside his friend, hitting the ground far harder than he had intended.
"I'm okay," Dann coughed, his lips coated in a thin layer of blood. "Go, help the others. I'm not much good right now." Calen began to protest.
"Go! You can't do anything for me. I'll be all right."
Calen nodded reluctantly. He had to try twice before he could drag himself to his feet. His body was not cooperating with him. Therin wasn't joking when he said using magic could leave him drained. Every movement felt heavy and laboured, as though he had been working in the forge from sunrise to sunset.
By the time he made it over to Erik and Dahlen, his body was littered with small cuts and scrapes. He swung his blade downward, parrying a stabbing strike from an Urak spear, then swung the blade back up the spear shaft to send the creature to the void. Sword forms ran through his mind as he flowed from one to next. Striking Dragon to Charging Boar, falling back into Crouching Bear.
A searing pain ripped through his thigh, forcing him to collapse to one knee. He looked back just in time to watch Valerys's claws tear through the creature's neck. Calen was almost scared to see what the dragon could do when he was bigger.
His heart jumped as an Urak caught Valerys in the side with a swinging hammer, sending him soaring through the air. He hit the ground with a thud.
He didn't move.
Something burned in Calen as he leapt to his feet. He pulled on threads of Air, screaming as he catapulted them at the Urak. He sent the unsuspecting monster hurtling through the air, snapping the trunk of a tree clean in half with the impact.
Calen felt the drain again. He dropped to one knee momentarily, fighting to stay conscious. Blood rushed down the inside of his leg, accompanied by a burning pain that ran along the length of the fresh wound. Ignoring it, he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over to Valerys. He felt the dragon's heartbeat even before he reached him, but that didn't stop him from placing a hand on Valerys's side, just to feel the rise and fall of his lungs. Relief flooded through him.
Another blood-curdling roar burst through the din of battle. He turned and saw a towering Urak with a plate of iron across its chest swinging a wicked double-bladed axe above its head. Calen tried to move, but he
barely had the strength to keep his fingers wrapped around the handle of his sword. He sighed and stretched his body across Valerys, closing his eyes.
Calen heard a whoosh and opened his eyes. The Urak stumbled back and forth, an arrow tip jutting from where its left eye had been only moments before. A second arrow exploded from its neck. Calen looked around. Dann was still on the ground. Therin was now in sight, but he was holding his sword, limping heavily as he fended off two Uraks.
Just as Calen saw them, both Uraks dropped, arrows jutting from multiple places on their bodies. Surprise coated Therin's face. The slicing sound of arrows cutting through the air filled the campsite. Raining death.
Calen spun his head around to see where they were coming from, pulling Valerys in closer to shield him.
The largest stag Calen had ever seen burst through the brush at the edge of the camp, the light from the baldír bouncing off its bone-white fur. The stag's body rippled with muscle. Its powerful neck held up a head adorned with ferocious antlers, black as coal, with veins of gold rippling throughout.
A man sat on its back, with a moss-green cloak draped around his shoulders and a hood obscuring his face. The man drew a sleek arrow from his quiver, nocking it and loosing it in a flash. An Urak dropped to the ground.
More warriors in green cloaks burst into the clearing, each wielding massive bows of stained white wood. Uraks dropped wherever their arrows flew. The fighting was over in a matter of moments. Those Uraks not lying motionless on the ground, arrows protruding from them like spines in a hedgehog, stumbled, crawling and limping away into the forest abyss.
The muscles in Calen's legs seized, and he struggled to hold himself upright. He tried to fight it, but he felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness.
Someone was approaching him. They were running. At least, he thought they were running. It was hard to tell. His vision blurred as if he were underwater. He felt a crack of pain as his other knee gave way. He fell to the flat of his back, hitting his head off something solid. The figure had almost reached him. They were definitely running.
He couldn't fight it anymore. He let his eyes close.