Roots - Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Tides of Change


The lone shadow watched the elven boy wash away beneath the magic waters, the current rushing him slowly as he dragged across the bottom toward his perch. The man watched his eyes shift all around as he was pulled downstream.
A brief second of pity brought the man from his perch to the ground, a brief instinct to go and save the boy. But he fought it. He fought with all his might.
Exasperated, the man threw himself down on a log.
“What am I doing?” He pondered. “An intruder in my home takes a swim in the worst possible place, practically doing my job for me, and gets swept away in his ignorance. And I feel bad for leaving him to what he wrought?
You've gone soft, Wanderer. You've gone soft.”
He murmured this to himself as the boy drug past him, passing slowly down the river.
* * *
Aldon’s eyes burst open, lungs gasping for air in shuddering explosions. Each intake burned his throat which had been rubbed raw by the salt water he swallowed, and his eyes stung horridly like bloodshot cherries. He sat up immediately and swooned.
He collapsed again and lost his vision. A black cloud descended over his eyes and echoed what little sound passed through the water in his ears. A rushing sound like an immense wave washing over him berated everything around him, deafening his every sense. This seclusion felt more like an exile to the usually in tune with the world elf.
Blindly, he scrambled to his feet and stumbled to the nearest tree for support. He clung to it desperately for support as he shook violently and vomited water.
Aldon dropped to the ground again and convulsed with every dry heave of his scorching lungs. A hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
Instantly Aldon throttled away from it, swinging wildly and in panic. The hand caught his arm just beyond the elbow and twisted it behind him, holding him in place. Every time Aldon struggled a sharp pain shot up his arm to his shoulder. Slowly the hand released him and guided him to the river.
Aldon tried to move away from it but was forced back into its icy waters. Aldon took a deep breath and knowing he couldn't out muscle his enforcer, offered no resistance. As the seconds ticked by Aldon accepted his fate once again and cursing himself for leaving his home and family. He imagined what he would miss out on and never experience in his short lifetime and his drive came before him.
The sense of adventure and longing he had felt calling him his entire life reared its ugly head at him and roared. But Aldon felt a new manifestation in the roar, another voice within it he soon realized to be his. He ripped his head from the water and bellowed at the sky as it slowly came into focus.
Rippling blues and whites shimmered in his sight then solidified into the world he knew, growing greens and reds and purples and magnificent colors he felt he had never seen before. The forest around him held a new purpose in his life like something growing under his careful management. These new realizations elated Aldon as new meaning of life came to him.
“You finally see it now don't you?” A rough voice called from behind. It reminded Aldon of a crackling fire and actually smelled of smoke.
The young elf turned to face his savior.
“Stop right there. Don't you dare look at me till I've seen your mettle.”
Aldon froze and waited for the mysterious man's requests. He instead looked down at himself and groaned as he remembered he was devoid of any equipment or clothing. The cold seemed to sense this and spread through the early morning light and swirled in the foggy mist surrounding them.
“Sir, I haven't any clothes or weapons. How am I to prove my mettle to you?”
A low chuckle came in reply as the man rummaged through his pack.
“Here, take this.” The man said and tossed Aldon a long, billowy cloak. Aldon caught it and slowly put it on as it pulled against the rough edges of his back. He rubbed his shoulders beneath the cloak and grimaced at the numerous long gashes and scrapes adorning his torso's entire length. He stretched cautiously and flexed his stiffened muscles.
“Now, look at me.”
Aldon did as he was told and turned to face the man.
He was slightly taller than Aldon like Denrir but thinner and lean muscled. His hair was short and light brown frosted in gray. His face was intense as a man who had experienced more than most men would experience in several lifetimes should. A calm, ready appearance and eyes blue as the morning waters, all knowing like an eagle's gaze looked back at him. His graying beard shaved thin sat on his strong chin and high cheekbones. A long thin scar stretched from his right eye down his cheek to his jaw, sucking in around it. His clothes were dirty and showed an extended stay in the forest but remained well kempt and repaired masterfully. Several pouches hung from his belt beside a sword on his left and a knife protruded from his boot.
But it was the longbow in his hand that drew Aldon’s attention.
It was aimed directly at his heart with a broad head staring him down. Aldon couldn't help but notice the man's steady hand holding the string back without the slightest shake or strain.
“What is your name?” He commanded. Aldon stumbled over the words as he stammered his name unintelligibly.
“Come on boy, what's your name?” He repeated.
“Aldon.”
“Why are you here?” The man asked expressionless.
“I came to find a town; somewhere to stay.”
The man's eyebrow rose.
“Explain.”
Aldon paused and sucked in a breath before recounting the story to the man. Aldon watched his movements and face closely, searching for any sign of recognition or emotion. But the man betrayed nothing. His face remained as placid as stone and watched him blindly until the tale was finished.
“Is that it?” He asked after the story's completion. Aldon stared at him dumbfounded then blinked, attempting to reason with the man's lack of sympathy or feeling.
“I guess so.”
The man raised the bow to Aldon’s eye level and pulled back further.
“Give me a reason not to send you back into the river.”
His voice was icy cold and flat like the wind, passing over Aldon like he was nothing, uncaring and single-minded. Aldon shivered against the turbulence of the man's front. The man stared back at him serene and controlled. Aldon however began to shake, trembles growing up and down his arms and legs. His knees quivered and nearly buckled beneath his weight as his head lightened considerably and drifted into the deepest corners of his mind.
The shaft of an arrow protruding from his cloak tore him from his thoughts and back into reality.
“Answer me or I won’t miss next time,” The man warned, teeth clenched with impatience. Aldon’s eyes widened as he stared at the arrow protruding from the excess cloak between his thighs.
“Three.”
Aldon looked at him pleadingly, eyes beginning to well with tears and face stinging with the humility and fear facing him.
“Two.”
Aldon’s heart skipped a beat, choking him with shaky gasps. He couldn't feel his outer extremities as the cold terror of death approached him.
“One.”
Time stood still to the young elf, every tendril of swirling mist hung in the air like spindly fingers wrapping around the forest trees and foliage. Birds hovered in the air motionless like colored planets passing over the frozen earth. Beads of sweat crystallized in place across the young elf's face and neck and his hair stood out in the wind like electricity. The rushing waters beside him shone like frozen fire; clear and scintillating in the still sunlight.
He looked from the majestic painting of nature to the arrow an inch from his forehead. It's slick blackwood shaft and eagle feather fletching glistened in their passage, the intricate decals on the flaky feathers a beautiful brown and gold like tigereye. Even the roughened edges of the shale broad head an inch away glinted beautifully, he thought.
Aldon’s senses absorbed all this faster than he could blink, sparking his ancestral reflexes.
Aldon’s hand whipped up to his face and knocked away the projectile just as it hit his eyelash in one swift movement. The arrow whistled harmlessly away into the shrubbery before the man could realize it had happened.
Instantly Aldon took his last chance. He dived forward and tackled his attacker, driving him to the ground. The man fell hard beneath him and in complete surprise dropped his bow as the air was pressed from his lungs.
Aldon scrambled for it, clawing at the bow in the dirt as he struggled with the man. He kicked at him and struck him across the face, rolled off and swept up the bow and retrieved the arrow he had deflected. He watched the older man slowly regain his footing.
“Are you going to kill me?” The man sneered, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Aldon responded by nocking the arrow and taking aim at the man's chest.
“Do you have what it takes? The heart to deal with the guilt of taking a man's life?” Every word laid heavy on Aldon. “You don't. I can sense it. You've never killed a man in your life.”
“Then why would you attack me?” Aldon retorted angrily.
The man smiled and held his arms out wide.
“You passed.” He said cockily. “Name's Briar.” The man swept low into a deep bow then stood again in a flash. Suddenly the string holding the bow erect in Aldon’s hands snapped with a twang and split across his face, the knife from Briar's boot planted an inch in the tree beside Aldon.
“So, Aldon, if you were truly looking for a home, why come here?” He said as he pulled the stunned boy to his feet. Aldon rubbed his face and grimaced as the whelps stung like fire.
“I've already told you the story. I have nothing else to tell.”
“No,” Briar began, “Not what transpired for you to leave, what made you choose the forest?”
Aldon pondered the question and sat as Briar motioned for him to. They sat for hours around a campfire he had hidden beneath his perch and discussed Aldon’s decisions and where he should head from there.
“So, Briar, I have told you all about me and my path, but what of yours?”
The man went silent for a long while, contemplative, and stared into the flames. His eyes glowed in the firelight and the forest around them seemed to darken into night. It was a deep silence with an emotion all its own as Briar began.
“It is only fair. So I shall start at the beginning. I am from a small village, very far from here. You would not find it there now if you searched. My home and family were destroyed by my own greed. You see, an army came through begging for rooms to sleep in and food to eat. I, being the town guard’s captain of course knew of our hardship that season. We had lost many crops to the blizzard we were in and had little water not frozen solid, our houses were stuck shut or separated by walls of ice; though we did have many barns beneath the mountain's protection. However, I turned them away.
They left without a word and disappeared back into the storm. Not long after, another army approached, this one the enemy of the army before them. They asked for rooms to sleep in and food to eat as well and I acted in kind to the first. But these men were not truly asking. They tore down our gate and killed the guards posted nearby. I tried to stop them but was easily defeated and thrown over the wall from the ramparts.
If I had allowed the first army in before, they could have saved them. My people.
I awoke several hours later. By the smell of smoke alone I knew they were gone. The city was ablaze and collapsed but still I entered. The houses were smoldering piles of ash and the shops rubble. But it was the streets I will always remember. The countless bodies and corpses of those I knew and loved. The people I had grown up with and sworn to protect. More than I could count littered the streets, left to burn. Not a single man, woman or child was spared.
I found those I could among the flames and drug them from the devastation.
Only one I found was alive.”
He paused a long while, Aldon not daring to interrupt him waited patiently. Briar cleared his throat and breathed deeply.
“A little girl named Emma. She had burns across her entire lower half and was missing so much of herself. I thought she was gone. But when I picked her up she smiled.
She had the most beautiful hazel eyes I had ever seen. Emerald lined in gold with a blue ring around the center. I will never forget those eyes or her words.
She said with her last shuddering breaths; 'They came and found me, but so did you.'
She died in my arms. I cradled her to the outside with the others and buried them all.”
Aldon stared at him in a new light within a world of darkness as he spoke.
“I spent the next few years training myself and under the guidance of Master Ruhtra Gnik. He taught me the way of the Spiritblades for several years until my regime was complete. He became the father I never had and my closest friend. I was honored to march into battle at his side against the Necromancers. But their magic was strong, and our swords cut through their ranks with equal ferocity.
We had lost many but victory was in sight, I was certain of it. That was when they summoned the Daemon to our realm, great monstrosities from the depths of what was referred to as Hell. And they sacrificed their bodies to them and became disgusting hybrids against all that is nature.
Ruhtra held them off as we retreated to our temple but he did not follow.
I turned to see him in the last instant of his life; he swept below a mighty swing and harnessed his spirit. His power was unbelievable. He unleashed it in a great blast, decimating their numbers.
He saved us all.
But left himself drained and weak. I watched in horror, useless and too far away to help, as a demon sword plunged through his chest and lifted him into the air before casting him aside and feasting on his body. I just stood there, watching my master and father's destruction.
We crushed the remaining few soon after in a rage and left not one alive, if you truly call them living. The victory was ours but we did not win.
I was ashamed. So embarrassed I had done nothing. So I exiled myself here, where I have remained for several years. A decade I think.”
Aldon let it all sink in for several minutes.
“Why did you come here?” He asked finally. Briar smiled at him and nodded approvingly.
“I saw this place as a sanctuary. Somewhere I could escape from the destructive touch of men. But after a few years they came here and wreaked their havoc on the land, felling trees and killing animals. I came to respect all life as equals and avenged them. I consider myself the guardian of these woods. A wanderer.”
“Why have you told me this?” Aldon asked him, truly humbled and honest. Briar looked back into the flames.
“The elves are a noble race. Ancient and much wiser than the likes of men. I have met few in my time as a traveler, but those I did were the truest companions you could wish for. I saw something in you. A light. Perhaps one you do not understand or accept yourself but one nonetheless there.”
Aldon looked hard at him.
“What is this light?”
“Your spirit. A strong-willed heart leading you will point you true. It is what calls you to do right and beckons your will to take flight. You know the feeling.”
Aldon nodded and stood.
“You are leaving so soon?” Briar asked, crestfallen. Aldon noted the hurt in his voice.
“No, my friend. I will return shortly. I would like to find my clothes and knife in the hope of finding warmth again.” Aldon said heartily as he stepped out of the light.
“Take this torch then.” Briar lit the oil soaked branch in a great flash and handed it to Aldon’s waiting hand.
Aldon nodded and ventured off into the darkness to find his equipment before complete sundown, letting the treacherous tide of the once damning river lead him like a rushing beacon.