Light of Elliana: Book One—Of Tears & Darkness

Chapter Thirty-Five: Combing The Forest

The following morning found Donovan foraging for ripe berries in the early light of dawn. It was going to be a cloudy somber day. Surprisingly enough, the prince had slept heavily through the night, until his stomach’s growling awakened him. Birds in the distance were making a fuss, alerting the prince to the presence of danger. Prince Donovan crouched down behind a tree and studied the forest in the direction of the cries.

From behind a tree upon a nearby hill stepped a Nyen on foot, clad in black oiled leather-armor. From the savage’s belted waist hung a crude sword, and he held a short-bow in his left hand with an arrow on the string. The beast stood still while searching the forest for a few moments before moving slowly forward once more. Up ahead, a Kang picked its way along the riverbank. The wide-shouldered brute wore simple leather armor and helm. At its waist was a hand-ax, and he held a cross-bow, which was c****d and loaded.

In the increasing light, Donovan spotted a line of Nyen and Kang advancing on foot, obviously combing the forest for any sign of him. High on a ridge above them, the prince crouched behind a tree, while silently drawing his longsword. Quietly, Prince Donovan studied the opposite side of the crest he was on, exploring his options. Below him, a Kang on horseback entered a clearing with a crossbow in hand. There was no chance the prince could overwhelm the rider before the cur spread the alarm.

Cautiously, Prince Donovan crept around the base of the tree, while measuring the enemy’s advance. He noted a Nyen closest to the top of the ridge, was lagging behind the others. Slipping around the tree further, the prince put it between himself and the Kang rider on the other side. Donovan crept to the next tree while managing to stay out of sight of the Nyen laggard, who was not into the search. For a minute, the savage disappeared entirely. Frantically, the injured prince searched for his whereabouts before finally locating him crouched down beside a tree, eating something he was holding.

The Kang on horseback was now slowly passing by the prince’s position, as were those on foot. Stealthily, Donovan crept forward alongside a rotting log and crouched lower. He hardly dared breathe, as he was sure those who were searching for him would detect it. Gradually, the enemy left him in their wake. Prince Donovan waited a while longer, to ensure those hunting him had disappeared into the distance.

The Nyen’s back faced him, and the creature was unaware of his presence. Stealthily, Donovan inched closer. Well within striking distance, a twig snapped beneath the prince’s boot as he closed with his victim. In a blur, the Nyen whirled around while drawing his hand-ax clear.

The prince thrust the gleaming point of his longsword into the savage’s pale throat, who fell backward gurgling. Bright red blood flowed from the wound, which almost matched the tiny red feathers strung on a leather thong hanging around his enemy’s blue tattooed pale neck.

The prince stripped the Nyen’s corpse of its weapons and rifled its pockets and bags for anything which might be of use. Donovan scanned the forest about him, for any sign of danger, as he wiped his blade clean. Finding none, he rolled the body into a hollow next to the rotted log and covered it with old bark and leaves. Prince Donovan gathered together the loot gained from his small victory and ran unsteadily away, fearing the headaches would return.

A short while later, exposed roots tripped Donovan, sending him tumbling down a hillside to land face-down in a patch of ferns and grass. Lying still for a few moments, he fought to catch his breath. Rising to his knees, the prince came abruptly face to face with a silver wolf, wagging its tail. Standing behind the wolf, was an attractive girl with long brown hair, dressed in green homespun.

Upon her shoulder, with its tail draped around her neck, was a green darter that matched the color of her simple dress. The girl stood still, appearing deep in concentration. Held within her right hand was a white wooden staff, topped with bluestone. Loud crashing a short distance away, materialized into a Nyen on horseback, bulling his way through the brush. The savage stopped and carefully surveyed the area before it.

The savage’s face was red on one side and dark blue on the other. It wore the light oiled black leather-armor, which was the norm for enemy scouts and raiders. Around his neck was a thong necklace, from which hung skulls of three small creatures. Not daring to breathe, Donovan remained on his knees. How the Nyen didn’t spot him was beyond the prince’s understanding, for he stood in the open less than twenty yards away. The air between them appeared to ripple, like on a hot summer day. His avowed enemy sat still upon its mount for a few minutes before galloping away. Within a few minutes, the beast vanished into the forest beyond.

Prince Donovan still couldn’t believe what he had seen. He turned to the girl. “He couldn’t tell I was there. The Nyen never saw either of us. How come he couldn’t tell we were there?”

“I cloaked us. Come—we need to leave,” the girl answered and started to walk away.

Donovan silently followed the girl, who seemed to be walking upon an invisible path that led deeper into the forest. They walked for perhaps an hour before reaching the top of a hill and stopping to rest.

“We needed to leave because more of the enemy were coming. There were far too many of them for me to cloak us against, successfully. Please forgive my manners; my name is Brenna Caldwythe.”

“My name is Prince Donovan Answaar. I thank you for saving my life. As for manners, it was I who rolled down the hill and landed at your feet,” Donovan whispered with a smile. “Does your four-legged friend have a name?”

Brenna laughed as she petted the silver wolf, who stood beside her. “His name is Timitz. We are safe now. The enemy riders who hunt for you are now a distance away.”

“How can you tell?” Donovan looked at her in amazement, not willing to believe what he was hearing.

“Can you not sense their presence?” For a moment, Brenna paused while looking at him and c*****g her head. “Of course, you can’t. I forgot how it once was before the binding,” the girl said quietly.

Donovan’s headache was returning, stronger than ever. The prince slowly sat down in the shadows under a projecting slab of rock. He held his head between his hands, trying to keep from passing out. The girl knelt beside Prince Donovan and placed a hand gently upon his arm. She looked at his head wound and nodded in understanding.

Brenna looked at the prince kindly and sat beside him. “Once you’ve rested a little more, it is important we continue onward. We still have a bit of a walk before our journey is over.” She crept from under the rock slab, and Donovan followed her. Both stood side-by-side for a few minutes, searching for signs of danger. All was quiet, save for two squirrels who were chasing each other across the dry leaves of the forest floor.

“We are about an hour’s walk from my father and mother’s home. My father is a healer and can treat your injuries. Its best to leave now before we draw any more attention to ourselves,” Brenna said. She brushed at bits of dry leaves and small twigs sticking to her robe and led the way once more.

Sometime later, it was with great relief on Donovan’s part when Brenna led him over a large hill. In the distance stood a small stone and log house. Beside it was a fenced-in garden. After a slow, unsteady journey on Prince Donovan’s part, they finally stood before the small home’s front door. Scarcely had they arrived, when the door opened and a tall, smiling, slender reed of a man with gray hair and beard to match stepped forward. He wore tan homespun leggings and jerkin, with black boots that laced snugly around his feet.

The man stepped forward and helped steady Donovan while gazing into his eyes. He gently looked at his head wound and immediately placed his shoulder under the prince’s arm to support him. Prince Donovan was about to black-out, his legs felt all wobbly and heavy at the same time.

“Brenna, help support him from the other side. We need to get him inside and off his feet as quickly as possible,” the man said in a voice filled with concern. Once inside, Donovan seated himself upon a carved wooden chair, while fighting the urge to pass out once more. The pain was excruciating, making him feel weak inside.

“Finally, our guest has arrived,” stated a woman who’s back faced him. She was stirring something in a pot. Her gray hair was bound behind her head in a ponytail, by an intricately tooled leather hairpiece and small engraved wood peg. She wore a clean light lavender homespun dress, with light brown laced footwear.

“How could you tell I was coming?” Donovan asked wearily. He felt nauseous and felt his strength slipping away. It was getting hard to concentrate on anything; all looked strange and peculiar. As his confusion worsened, Prince Donovan felt profoundly tired.

“My name is Myrna. I can sense a great many things, Prince Donovan Answaar.” She turned to stare at him with sightless grayish-white eyes and a pleasant smile.

Donovan felt himself beginning to collapse, even as everything took to spinning madly about him. His injuries had proven to be far worse than he could physically bear. With a lurch, Prince Donovan felt the floor tilt up to meet him with a crash.