《Tales of Sylvanalor》 I. Hè´¸thrè°©in and the River-Maiden List of Names: Few things in Sylvanalor are more mysterious than the waters. Their music and their call is full of memory, of sadness and of many deep things; and the echo of this music carries farther than other sounds. At least, so it is said. Once there was a man named H¨®thr¨¢in, who dwelt in the central mountains of Sylvanalor. He was of the brotherhood of ¨²barriel, that spirit known by many as the lord of passion, great among the good powers of the world. H¨®thr¨¢in and the monks of his brotherhood lived at a monastery far up the central mountains, many miles from any town. They were vigorous men, for ¨²barriel¡¯s is a martial order; and they spent their days training in combat armed and unarmed, to keep their bodies strong, and honoring their lord of flame. But it is in the nature of ¨²barriel and of those who serve him to be led by the passion of their hearts, and to only restrain it should it turn astray to evil; and thus many of the brothers would fare forth on wanderings, braving the dangers of the mountains. And so it was that one day H¨®thr¨¢in found himself exploring a valley between two of the great peaks, out on one of his sojourns. The place was a few days¡¯ travel west from his monastery, and he was alone; for he sought both adventure and solitude. He was clad in mail and had a greatsword at his side, for he knew that goblins and like creatures lived in the mountains, but he had met no trouble so far. Now the valley he was descending into was green and beautiful, full of grasses and pine trees; but on either side the land rose in steep slopes as it approached the mountains, becoming rockier and more withered. H¨®thr¨¢in reached the depths of the valley, and stood amid the pine trees. He watched them sway, listening to them call out to the loneliness of the mountain winds. After a time, his desire satisfied, he turned to exit the way he had come. But as he turned his face to the north, he saw a thick cloud of fog drifting towards him, obscuring the whole length of the valley from west to east. Knowing the unpredictability of weather in the mountains, and fearing some great storm, he chose to dare the fog anyway, in hope of escape. Yet within minutes of plunging into the fog he was lost, and could determine neither north nor south nor any clear direction. For very great and treacherous are the vapors of the mountains, and the fog settled impenetrably about him and clung to him, confounding him. And even though it was hopeless he continued on, seeking to pass through to some clear spot where he could see again. He walked on directionless for a long time. Eventually, the fog lifted, and H¨®thr¨¢in was able to see about him again. But he had no idea where he was! He was no longer in a mountain valley, full of pine trees: a hilly land surrounded him now, flowing with short grasses. Instead of pines, oak and maple dotted the gentle slopes about him, and here and there a willow lay beside a little stream. For a brief time he walked about in wonder. Then, realizing his thirst (for he had thought it only a few hours he had been in the fog, but it could have been a day or more), he headed to one of the willow-trees to refresh himself in a stream. He knelt beneath the shade of the leaves to splash his face, and drink. And as he drank, he heard something, come from further down the stream. It was a voice, singing. Perhaps it was too far away, but H¨®thr¨¢in could not understand the words: all he heard in the singing was the sadness of water, in its deeps; and its merriment, in the laughter of flowing falls. Curious and enamored, he stood, and began walking towards the sound. Immediately the song¡¯s power rose, and he heard and saw in the music the swell and crash of great waters, and the lap of gentle waves against lesser shores; the quiet nonsense of riversides, and the unknown of depths great and small, the mysteries below the surface of even little ponds. His heart full of desire beyond his understanding, H¨®thr¨¢in continued along the stream, now walking quickly. And as he walked the song continued, calling him. After a few minutes H¨®thr¨¢in could hear the voice, so full of loveliness, loud and clear, and he quickened his pace the more, eager to meet it. But suddenly, the music stopped. In its place came cries, from the same lovely voice; and there were also coarse, jeering yells, of a kind all too familiar to H¨®thr¨¢in. His heart hardened; his eyes blazed in anger. Running hard, he turned the last bend and beheld the sight before him. In front of him lay a sparkling pond, into which flowed the stream. It was a large pond, over fifty yards across, and on all sides save his was sheltered by wild, overgrown slopes. At several spots around the pond were clusters of cattail and other rushes, and here and there waterlilies floated, some white and some pink. And, to the left of the pond, there stood a woman. The first thing H¨®thr¨¢in saw of her was her golden hair, tinged with lightest green; long and fair it swept behind her. Her skin was palest white, unnaturally so, and her beauty in its fullness; she wore only a gown like clear water, flowing almost to her knees. Her eyes were pale gold, and fearful. The reason for her fear was evident: for surrounding and advancing on her were several bugbears, savage monsters like goblins but larger than men. Bear-faced, fanged, and clawed, seven foot tall with spiked clubs in hand, they leered down at her: two stood in between her and H¨®thr¨¢in, at least three others stood behind. White fire blazed in H¨®thr¨¢in¡¯s veins. With a cry ¨²barriel! ¨²barriel! he charged the monsters, sweeping his sword from the sheath. The closest two had reacted just enough to turn toward him; leaping at them he hewed one down, with a mighty stroke that carried into the other. The fey woman cried out in terror and ran aside. As the first bugbear fell, the second, wounded, tried to fight; but H¨®thr¨¢in clove its spiked club in two in its hand, and ran it through. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Freeing his blade, H¨®thr¨¢in turned to receive the charge of the other three bugbears. One club he parried, and another was turned aside on his mail. The third struck his left arm, causing a gash. Hardly injured, H¨®thr¨¢in roared and continued the fight, felling the one that struck him. Within moments, only one remained. But it grinned. H¨®thr¨¢in looked around, quickly, but not fast enough. Two more were behind him ¨C bugbears, despite their size, have uncanny stealth ¨C and advancing on him they struck him in the back. His mail saved him, but it was dented and bruised, and he was staggered by the blows. Turning he sundered their spiked clubs with a single stroke, and felled one beast. But the grinning bugbear hit as he turned, striking his hand horribly, and he dropped his sword in agony. Like lightning he jumped back, so that the two remaining were in front of him; he set himself just in the water, with his back to the pond ¨C where the fey woman had fled ¨C and raised his hands to fight. Now the brotherhood of ¨²barriel trains armed and unarmed, and the martial art of their monks is renowned. As the two monsters advanced, H¨®thr¨¢in leapt at the one still armed, and felled it with a single powerful blow from his fist. The other lunged and pierced his neck with its claws, a terrible wound. He felt strength leaving him, as his blood poured out, and with a last effort he slammed the bugbear with a blow from his bleeding hand. It fell. But H¨®thr¨¢in, so wounded, fell too, and the water about his legs enveloped him as he sank down. There for all his strength he could not move, weighted by his armor and badly hurt, and he expected to drown in a pond. But it was not to be. As his air ran out, a lily-white hand reached down into the water, and touched his forehead. Suddenly his lungs filled. He could breathe! He lay there as slowly, with much struggle, the fey woman dragged him out of the pond. There she lay beside him, her golden-green hair falling over his chest; and she wept softly, caressing his face as he lay and singing to him the same haunting song as before. After a while, he strove to speak. ¡°O lovely water-maiden, why did you call for me? It was an honor to defend you, if that was the reason. Please do not weep.¡± To this she answered, ¡°I called you out of loneliness, for I have no one. I sought companionship; but it seems that is not my fate. I called you, and you were doomed. Perhaps it was a warning; for you could not have long enjoyed the depths of my pond, or this lonely place in the wilds; and despite the heartbreak I have even at this parting, maybe it is better than that which would have occurred otherwise.¡± And he answered, ¡°Do not call it a parting, lovely one. Even now I may survive and heal. And my heart was called by the waters, captured in your voice. If I do survive, I will not leave you.¡± He lifted his bloodied hand to her cheek; her tears rolled down upon it in glimmering silver. ¡°I am H¨®thr¨¢in. Please, tell me, what is your name?¡± ¡°Neriss?¡± she responded, in a whisper amid her tears. ¡°And you will leave. You only came because of the enchantment of my song.¡± ¡°Nay,¡± said he, ¡°I felt the lure of your song, and resisted it. But I was still enchanted, and still came, and am enamored of your beauty. If you will let me, I will remain with you.¡± And in wonder Neriss? the water-maiden did not deny him, but began to hope. She put forth her art and labored in healing, binding his wounds with riverweeds and tending them with magical water-plants. She brought him into the depths of her pond with her, so she could make him more comfortable in a realm under her power. And she talked with him, enjoying his company despite her worries, and telling marvelous tales. Still the first day he worsened, and the second lapsed into dark dreams. She fell into sorrow, and wept often while tending him; for as she cared for him she came to love his sky-blue eyes and long, golden-brown hair. In the midst of the third day, when H¨®thr¨¢in gave no sign of waking, she despaired, and gave him a kiss as token of parting. But late in the third day he seemed to improve, and the fourth day more color returned to his face; and the fifth day, he awoke. Then she delighted in his company; for he was passionate and empathic, and for each mysterious tale she told him of the waters about her home, he shared one in turn about the mountains, the winds, and wondrous creatures of the outside world. She showed him much of the lore and magic of waters, and she sang for him. Often he would ask her to sing, and sometimes he would sing for her; and still other times when one began the other would join, and they would sing together. And after several days of this delight, H¨®thr¨¢in was healed. Then Neriss? feared, for she knew the waywardness of men; and H¨®thr¨¢in himself was a man of passion and wanderlust. And one day H¨®thr¨¢in announced to her that he must go. Then in distress she wept, and begged him remain, taking his left hand in both of hers and holding it to her breast. But with his right hand he gently lifted her chin, and promised her he would return; for he desired only to be with her, and being an honorable man he would first return to his brothers and inform them of his choice, to become a hermit at her side. Again, she begged him not to go; but out of love she told him where he was, and how to find his monastery. And so H¨®thr¨¢in departed, and Neriss?¡¯s heart was heavy. He left her with the token of ¨²barriel he wore, the wild red rose wreathed in white flames; and she wore it on her neck for many days of doubt. Months passed. Finally one day Neriss? heard rumor, from the stream that came to her pond, of an approaching man. She began to tremble, and then slowly started to sing. For many minutes she was unanswered, and in sorrow she began to waver. But then at last she heard a voice answering, singing back to her; and she knew it was H¨®thr¨¢in¡¯s. He found her crying at the pond¡¯s edge, and he ran up to her, holding her in his arms until she calmed. And, once she had finally quieted, and embraced him in return, he said to her, ¡°I heard you calling me.¡± Thus ends the tale of H¨®thr¨¢in and the River-Maiden. It is said that they had many children, some of whom became great wanderers themselves, and mingled among the peoples of nearby lands. And even to this day if there be found a man or woman with long golden hair or pale skin or who has an enchanting voice, in that region about the central mountains, or a person of exceeding beauty, it is said that they descend from H¨®thr¨¢in and Neriss?, and carry the gifts thereof. Some legends claim that H¨®thr¨¢in lives still with the River-Maiden, who as ageless fey has shared her power and life with him; and that he wanders about that land still, adventuring with his children, but ever returns to Neriss?¡¯s arms. II. Tç…¤mladir鈥檚 Mistake II. T¨²mladir¡¯s Mistake List of Names: Once there was a knight of the Holy Order, and his name was T¨²mladir. He was a Senior Journeyman knight of the Order, almost a Champion; and he was of the First Brotherhood, the Knights of the White Rose, who serve as protectors and guardians. Now T¨²mladir was a very skilled warrior, and quite strong; so when he was assigned by the Elders an escort mission, accompanying a monk to his monastery, he was not surprised. He clad himself in his armor, silver mail with the White Rose painted on the breast. He grabbed his sword and his square shield, painted with white sun and white stars, and slung his longbow on his back. He checked to make sure the sun of Ap¨¢llias, god of light, that he wore was about his neck, just to be safe. And then he left his quarters to report to the Elder knight who¡¯d given him the assignment, and meet the brother he was escorting. All was normal for this kind of mission, and T¨²mladir was not surprised. But T¨²mladir was surprised when he met the brother, outside the castle gates. The monk, Brother Althis, was very old: wrinkled, with long white hair, he held a stick and was bent with age. He looked too old to ride; and he would not be riding, as T¨²mladir learned. Brother Althis was a monk of Maidilar, lord of justice, and his monastery was north across the mountains. To cross them they would take the Pass of C¨¢ranithe, which was nearby; but the pass was rocky, and ill-fit for horses, so the two would go on foot. And they would go alone! T¨²mladir had thought that the case at first, but C¨¢ranithe Pass was an unsafe place, troubled too often by goblins and other things. The old monk wore only the sky-blue and white robes of Maidilar¡¯s order, and the conjoined wings, symbol of Maidilar, on his neck. Unarmored, he looked vulnerable, and T¨²mladir feared for him: he would stand between this good brother and any danger, but one stray arrow from a goblin archer... He asked the Elder knight if he alone was capable for this mission, or if a group should be assigned to escort the venerable brother. The Elder knight replied, ¡°T¨²mladir, you are sufficient. Brother Althis will be safe beside you; he himself is highly regarded among the monks of Maidilar, and has progressed far along their path.¡± So he reassured T¨²mladir, but the knight was not convinced. They began their journey northward, traversing the great hill on which the Order¡¯s castle rests. In no time they reached the wooden out-wall, and passing through it found themselves on the path leading to the mountains, and C¨¢ranithe Pass. They descended into the valley between the hill and the mountains, and walked among gold, flowing grasses. T¨²mladir¡¯s unease grew as the mountain slopes drew nearer, and finally he confided in his charge, saying ¡°Father, I can see that you are venerable and wise. I fear we are ill-prepared for this passage, and I am anxious for your safety. You must know the dangers of C¨¢ranithe. Why are you so calm?¡± And Brother Althis, leaning on his stick, answered, ¡°I am sorry to worry you, son. Dismiss your anxiety; fear not! For I made the passage south on my visit to the Order, and was unharmed. And I have been this way many times over the years. I am becoming very old, as you can see, but the secrets of my brotherhood do not depart with age. The White Flame still dwells in me. And the wisdom of Maidilar has guided me true for seventy-seven years; I do not doubt him now.¡± And T¨²mladir was comforted, but worried still. Now the slopes grew steeper, and became rough and rocky as they ascended. Following the path, they reached the area between the two mountains, where the path twisted between boulders and outcroppings, becoming quite difficult terrain. At either hand slopes zigzagged up, into wild pathways which could be used to climb the mountains, if one were skilled. Here and there instead of these wild slopes, a sheer wall would border the trail; some were a dozen feet tall, some two. Finally, the path thinned, bordered by the steepness on either side, rarely as wide as fifteen feet across. The Pass of C¨¢ranithe. It was rough going, and slow. Brother Althis wound his way with care among the areas of rubble, which were many, and labored at the times they had to clamber or even climb. T¨²mladir assisted him, when necessary, and offered to carry the man on his back at difficult points. Brother Althis smiled at his courtesy, and accepted his help; but he would not ride on the knight¡¯s back, and patiently struggled on. The noontide sun began to sink, and hours of peaceful travel went by. T¨²mladir was hopeful. For all his age the monk, despite his slow going, held up well, and the knight was confident they could make the passage in a day; they were most of the way already. He continuously scanned the area about them, wary of any creature¡¯s approach, but saw nothing. With luck, they would suffer no incident. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. But, as is the case in such tales, danger did befall them. As the sunset began, they passed beside yet another sheer wall, on their left, this one rising twenty feet before tapering into a steep, mountainous slope; it continued for hundreds of feet ahead of them before petering off. They had walked for about a minute beneath the wall¡¯s shadow (for the sun lay behind it), when T¨²mladir heard, faint but near, a shrill, birdlike call. Recognizing the signal instantly, he hissed a rebuke to himself under his breath, for his foolishness and overconfidence, and immediately drew sword and shield. He sprang beside the monk, crying ¡°Ware, father!¡± and, shielding Althis from the west with his own body, he narrowed his eyes, scanning the deeper shadows of the wall. It did not take him long to find, with an intent eye: about fifteen feet up, there was a ledge in the wall, well concealed in shadow; due to the stone¡¯s coloration, it would have been hard to see the slight protrusion even in bright light. Indeed, T¨²mladir did not first see the ledge, so much as the goblins upon it. There were several of them, perhaps a dozen, and all were armed with bows. Even as T¨²mladir watched, several of them, grinning with fanged mouths, fit arrows to the string. He raised his shield before him, and felt the impact as three arrows were deflected or broken upon it. He glanced about. The old monk was unharmed, and was gazing at the goblins with unwavering gray eyes. Behind them lay a large rock; another obstruction in the path, but in this instance a blessing. T¨²mladir gestured, and Brother Althis went to take cover. The knight followed, protecting him, and several more arrows were stopped by his shield; numerous others fell about them, skipping among the stones. From behind the rock, T¨²mladir sheathed sword and set shield aside, and took up his bow. He looked at Althis again, worried. Then, with a sudden motion, he stood, taking two rapid shots at the goblin marksmen. His daring was rewarded with a shriek, as one fell; but the rest continued hailing arrows at him, and he dove back under cover. For a few minutes the firefight continued this way, the goblins showering arrows uncomfortably near and T¨²mladir, whenever he could, darting out and loosing a hurried shot. Another fell from the wall, and a third was wounded, but it looked to be a long struggle; and already his quiver was feeling light. Then his fears grew worse. Ahead and to the right there came several shrill, wild cries. Glancing that way, he saw several more goblin raiders, these with shields and axes, charging down the slopes toward them. They were caught in a killing trap: they could not stand and fight the axe-men without exposing themselves to fire from above. T¨²mladir took one last shot, then threw down his bow, and grabbing his shield up again edged around behind the rock, putting himself between the axe-men and the old monk. He knelt there with sword drawn, wondering how he would fight several goblins in such a position, when movement behind made him turn his head. Brother Althis had left cover! Standing he faced the goblin archers, empty hands raised toward them; their arrows were whining all around him, and one passed within a handbreadth of his face. T¨²mladir cried out in fear for the old man, and sprang toward him, but then something remarkable happened. As he approached, T¨²mladir saw the brother¡¯s eyes: they blazed a bright gray, as if something possessed him. The monk lowered his left hand and raised his right, crying out a single word. There was a brilliant flash and a thunderous boom, and a stroke of white lightning leapt from his hand, crashing into the ledge; it arced to every goblin archer, smiting them where they stood or blasting them from the wall. His face blank in amazement, T¨²mladir was roused by the cries behind him. The goblin axe-men were seconds away from him; despite their cowardice and awe at the lightning, these must have thought themselves near and numerous enough to handle the old man and the knight. T¨²mladir set himself and received their charge, claiming one with his blade and throwing another back with his shield. The rest came at him, but he held fast ¨C T¨²mladir was trained in Maerfoln, Path of the Thunderstorm, and he assumed a strong, defensive posture, repelling their attacks. Three more fell by his hand. Then, all the rest rushed him at the same moment, and as he fended their attacks two of them ran by him and charged at Althis. T¨²mladir cried out to the monk, but it was too late: they were far too close for him to throw lightning again, even if he could do so, and the knight could only watch them approach the unarmed old man. Brother Althis raised his wizened hands. As they approached, he lashed out, his one hand held rigid in a shape like a claw, the other held in a fist. T¨²mladir heard the loud snap of bone; he also saw the impact. But he did not believe it. The knight was a senior journeyman, a seasoned warrior. He knew from experience the effect that attacks of diverse strengths should have on foes; he could tell by sight the strength behind a stroke, or could tell from the wound inflicted, and he had even seen the results of magically-enhanced strength upon injuries. But this was like nothing he had ever seen. On impact, the two goblins went flying backwards, broken. It was as if a creature with not just the strength, but the size of a giant had struck them! And yet there stood only Brother Althis, the venerable monk. All of this occurred in seconds. T¨²mladir turned to the three goblins left facing him: all three now looked far from confident. He lunged out, stabbing one; soon, none remained. He turned to the monk, to see to him, but Brother Althis looked unhurt. Sheathing his sword, the knight smiled. ¡°Only ¡®Brother¡¯ Althis, father?¡± he asked. The bent old monk smiled back. ¡°Humility, perhaps¡± he answered. ¡°Technically, it is ¡®Master¡¯ Althis, Abbott. I do my best to be a bit more anonymous. But did not I tell, you, T¨²mladir, that all my life Maidilar has done me no wrong? And the secrets of my brotherhood do not depart with age.¡± III. The Mountain Badger III. The Mountain Badger List of Names: Not so long ago, the town of Centhaer came upon great trouble. Now this town lay in R¨¢nus, the Northern Kingdom, and was far in the northern lands even for that country. It lay just below the Farant¨®sf¨²ris, the Northwind Forest, one of the kingdom¡¯s borders: for that great wood was too treacherous and too cold, and the winds too furious, for even R¨¢nus¡¯s hardy people. But it was not too much for the barbarians, the mighty tribes that roamed Northwind Forest, nomadic and fierce, warring with each other amid the bitter cold. Usually they dwelt deep in the forest, farther north, and so hunters had no greater danger venturing in there than the perils of the wood itself. But occasionally, one or more tribes would descend out of the forest, raiding, stealing, destroying; and then the few brave farmers and frontier folk would need flee to the towns. Now out of the few large settlements bordering the forest, Centhaer was smallest by far. Its walls were only of wood, though strong, and its garrison few in number. But it had weathered barbarian attacks. They occurred only once every few years or every several, but they were terrible enough for their lessons to be remembered: the people of Centhaer were resilient and strong. Their lord was Iscanthir, a fine warrior; but greater still was Hal¨²mir his captain. Now Hal¨²mir was not from Centhaer originally, but came from far away, years before the events of this tale. He told nobody where he came from; but he entered the lord¡¯s service, swearing fealty to him, and became one of his foremost knights. Lord Iscanthir was glad to receive him, for his prowess of arms was great, and he was mightier than any in the lord¡¯s service, stronger than his stature should allow; and as the years passed, he proved his honor time and again. One day Hal¨²mir was on patrol with a dozen men, scouting the land for signs of danger. They had already explored the distance between town and forest, and now they entered in beneath the great pines, leaving three men with the horses at the edge of the trees. As is usual in those parts, a cold, strong wind drove through the branches, sighing deeply around them as they continued their maneuver. It was a routine exercise, and there had been no recent evidence of barbarian movements; but the forest itself is a danger, full of beasts, so the men with him were some of the highest knights of Centhaer (of which there were few enough), arrayed in mail and armed with swords and mighty shields. Some had bows slung on their backs, and each man had a horn at his side. The knights had not gone far when they found disquieting signs. In the first clearing they came upon they discovered footprints, many footprints in the mud. Curiously, these prints were of heavy booted feet. The barbarians wore armor of hide when they hunted and fought, possessing little metal beyond their weapons; but these tracks were from metal boots and not the hide shoes worn by tribesmen. More immediately alarming to Hal¨²mir and his men, the tracks were not hid in any way. Usually the men of the forest hid their tracks when they could, especially when two tribes were warring on each other. In all of these knights¡¯ years protecting their town, the only times when tracks were left like this, completely uncovered, were when great numbers of barbarians were on the move. And the tracks were found here, in the southernmost wood! In an instant the knights were in battle posture, five men shoulder-to-shoulder with sword and shield in hand; the other four stood behind with arrows nocked. Hal¨²mir knelt still ahead of them, examining the footprints. Then he froze, hearing a noise in the distance. It had been faint among all the soughing pine-branches, but he knew what he had heard. Slowly he rose, signaling silence to the men behind. Edging backwards ¡®til he was right before them, he whispered orders for a quiet retreat. As one, the ten men slowly withdrew, holding their formation; then at the clearing¡¯s edge they broke, walking two abreast through the trees. At first they moved slow, to cause minimal noise, but then they heard what the captain had heard: the commotion of armored men crashing about. It began behind them at a distance, but growing closer; and soon they could hear it on either side as well, a ways off. At a word from the captain they quickened pace, hurrying to escape the forest and reach their horses. Scarcely a mile in when they withdrew, the knights were soon very close to the wood¡¯s edge ¨C but then a handful of shafts soared in, showering the group. Shields deflected some, but the volley had come from the right, and no few landed at breast or abdomen, only stopped by fine scale mail. With a shout from Hal¨²mir the men formed up, the five making a brief shield-wall; the four bowmen behind them took shots. At least one cry rewarded that volley, and the knights sent another. But then the crashing drew closer still, and they knew they must flee. Hal¨²mir held the rearguard as they ran, holding what defensive posture they could on the fly; and looking back he now saw, at the edge of sight, their foe. They were barbarian men, indeed: he could tell from their hair, a lighter brown than the knights¡¯ and falling farther down the back. But they wore armor, breastplates of dark metal, that Hal¨²mir had never seen before. A handful of moments before bursting out of the trees, the knights wound their horns to warn their companions. They were rewarded by numerous cries, north, west, and east, and louder crashing as more of the barbarian warriors became aware of them. But they were almost out. Then, they saw ahead several foes, blocking the way. Every one of them was armored in dark plate, and some had shields wrought of the same metal; all held axes in their hands. Hal¨²mir¡¯s horn-cry sounded the charge, and the knights fell on their enemies. Still holding the rear, he saw one of his men fall to an axe-stroke while fighting two foes. He stepped in to take his place, and waited. Not understanding, both barbarians lunged at him; dodging aside one, he parried the other¡¯s attack. Then, he returned the strike, felling the first with a single, savage blow. The other fell likewise. Centhaeras! Centhaeras! the knights shouted, inspired by the display. They smote their way through the enemy as Hal¨²mir lifted the stricken man. But just as the others escaped and he strode forward carrying his fallen, with only one knight at his side, two huge barbarians stood to block the way, separating them from the rest. Both were two hundred pounds or more, and six feet tall at the least. Handing his charge to the other knight, Hal¨²mir rushed at them. The barbarians were unnerved by his wild eyes, but did not move; they were clearly larger and stronger. But he refused to fail: driving at one, Hal¨²mir closed and shoved him backward, then turned and threw the other to the ground. Turning again to the first, the captain cut him down, tearing through his defenses with unexplainable strength. Taking the fallen knight again in his arms, they rejoined the larger group, passing out from under the trees. They found their three brothers ready and all mounted swiftly, grabbing their spears. When asked what had befallen, the captain answered ¡°The barbarian tribes are in some league together, and are at our heels. We ride, now!¡± Then they sprang away. The wounded man had been helped on his horse, and had strength enough to ride unaided; but he looked back, and even as they left he saw the first of their foes emerge from the trees, dozens of armored men. They bore mainly axes, spears, and bows: some arrows fell about the riders, hastily shot, but they rode on. Soon they neared Centhaer¡¯s walls, and their horns rent the air again, providing advanced warning. Minutes later they rode through the open gates, and found the town¡¯s soldiers mustering. The Lord Iscanthir was gathering men in the square, and others he had sent running to reinforce the walls; but he turned to Hal¨²mir and his knights as they rode up. ¡°What tidings, Hal¨²mir?¡± the lord cried. ¡°For we heard your signal, and our men on the walls saw behind your riding a dust rise, like the movement of a host.¡± Then the captain dismounted and spoke urgently to his lord, telling of the barbarian force and its unknown numbers, as well as the mystery of their armor. Then Iscanthir was troubled; but he gathered his valor, and asked Hal¨²mir for counsel. The captain suggested a cautious battle on the field, with a small force: for they knew not the strength arrayed against them, but could not abandon the countryside without a fight, and must strike against the enemy, before being driven in. ¡°For we cannot surrender all the field without some defense¡± he said, ¡°and we may give them pause, when they face us!¡± And when the lord assented, Hal¨²mir led the force himself. At the head of a dozen mounted men ¨C the same as before, save a few who were hurt ¨C and strengthened by two score on foot, he left by the same north gate from whence they had entered. All of them could now see the rising dust, and Hal¨²mir was alert and wary. Only a couple hundred yards out, they sighted their first enemies: several dozen barbarian men, marching fast. They did not appear an ordered vanguard, but were rather in three different groups, each a little apart from the others; each had its own standard. The men recognized two of them: the Gray Bear, and the Scarlet Boar. There was another they did not know, a black falcon on a drab field. All were on foot, and all were armored in that same dark plate. With a shout from Hal¨²mir the horsemen sprang forward, while the footmen followed in a tight rank. They rode toward the men of the Scarlet Boar, who loosed their battle-cry and charged in turn. The clash was immense. With a mighty thrust Hal¨²mir pierced a man with his spear, then threw him backwards; he crashed into another, and both fell. Similar results occurred to either side. Their onset threw back the foe¡¯s front rank; but at least one knight was impaled, by enemy spear, and more than one man unhorsed. The captain and eight others clove their way through, then turned to charge again. After desperate moments of fighting, the Scarlet Boar gave way: the escaping men ran to the Black Falcon, leaving near a score down on the field. Of his knights two lay slain, one spear-impaled, one axe-hewn; the other two who were unhorsed managed to recover, and remount. The rest had minor wounds. They rode back to the infantry, who were close, and the captain dismounted, handing his horse to another. He would now lead the footmen, for a fierce fight awaited them. Between the Gray Bear and Black Falcon, swollen by the Scarlet Boar, there were still three-score enemies. And those drew close: already, arrows flew between the Centhaeras and the foe. And in the distance, just barely in sight, more forces were approaching. The men held firm, and advanced. As they closed, Hal¨²mir noticed something he had not processed before: the men of the Black Falcon looked different. Their hair was darker and their faces paler than any tribes of the Farant¨®sf¨²ris. He dismissed the thought ¨C there was no time now ¨C but resolved to investigate later. The Gray Bear and Black Falcon finally combined ranks, approaching together. They charged. The footmen of Centhaer met them, spears readied. Some spear-shafts snapped or were driven aside by the furious barbarians, some were foiled on plate armor; others struck true. Hal¨²mir held the center of their line, a stone pillar, refusing to yield. He met the buffets of battleaxes, throwing men to the ground with his shield. He turned spear and sword and axe aside; and his powerful strikes rent the armor of his foes. He cut down all before him with astonishing strength. At one point fighting three men, one struck his left side a significant wound; he did not flinch. Then three more joined in, and all six leapt at him. Like a raging badger, he held them back with ferocious effort, and soon one lay dead. The other five closed in, and he loosed his shield. Like crashing stones his blade fell, cleaving their dark breastplates. Only three remained, and they seized and grappled him. But Hal¨²mir was not beaten. A tremendous blow from his fist, and one collapsed to the earth. Another was hurled aside, and fell heavily. The last Hal¨²mir, the better wrestler, crushed in his arms and then thrust away. His men cheered about him, horns sounding in defiance. The barbarians were shaken: outnumbering their foes before the meeting, they now numbered fewer, in large part because of the captain alone. They gave and retreated, holding some order; but they beat hastily back to their allies, far in the distance, leaving half their number dead or wounded. Yet the Centhaeras themselves were reduced, for the tribes of Northwind are fearsome warriors. Of their forty footmen some thirty remained; and several knights were down. Hal¨²mir sheathed his sword, and recovered his shield. He looked about. A much larger body was coming from the north, among which he could see several different standards at the least; the clouds of dust Iscanthir had mentioned were from their many marching feet on the dry plain. Their engagement had only been with the vanguard, it seemed. Yet the standards were more than a mile away ¨C they had a little time to withdraw. Closer at hand, he noticed a man from the Black Falcon lying wounded. As he drew nearer he saw that the man was indeed nothing like the barbarians: he was paler and darker-haired, but also less in size than them, more akin to the men of the North Kingdom. And though he looked strong, he lacked the natural muscularity common to the nomadic peoples simply due to their harsh lives. He had his soldiers bind the man, and set him on a horse before one of his unwounded knights. All the other horses were given to men who had not the strength to walk, and every footman who was able helped gather the injured and fallen. Hal¨²mir with eight men followed as rearguard. All ordered, they retreated quickly to the town, the enemy gaining with every minute as they bore their brethren back. When they came in sight of Centhaer they saw a great body of their kinsmen, with Lord Iscanthir at the head: a hundred spears bristled outside the gate, as they stood awaiting them, the rest manning the north wall. On seeing Hal¨²mir¡¯s group return there arose a great cheer, and they were met in the field, surrounded, and escorted back. Now rumor of the barbarians behind grew louder and louder, and soon they could be clearly espied from the walls. The lord and his captain hurried to finalize defenses, for the enemy was numerous enough that they might not bother with siege ¨C a direct assault seemed imminent. Several hundred feet distant, well out of bowshot, they halted and ordered their ranks. The men on the walls saw many standards; there seemed dozens of smaller tribes in the host. Some the Centhaeras recognized: there were many of the lesser tribes descended from the Bear and the Boar, the ancient lineages of Northwind¡¯s peoples (Crimson Bear, White Bear, Black Boar, etc), as well as other lesser tribes like the Red Lion and Silver Wolf. But there were others they did not know, banners depicting serpents and dragons and other beasts, not seen in the heraldry of Farant¨®sf¨²ris. Hundreds they numbered, more than a few times the ten-score men of Centhaer. And yet they did not advance. After some time of dreadful waiting, one barbarian did approach; but he held a white standard in one hand, and the other he held, palm out. The men of Centhaer were hardy veterans, well trained; no fearful, unwarranted shot felled the enemy herald. A short way from the wall he stopped. ¡°Warriors of F¨²risburg, town of Farlending¡± the man shouted in the Common speech, naming the town and North Kingdom in his people¡¯s manner, ¡°we come for war, as you can see. Yet skill and watchfulness leave you unsurprised. You are worthy foes! Of late many of us have heard rumors of great deeds done by the Farlingas, in particular those of your town. And further, this day tales of prowess have come to our ears that impressed our highest chieftains, and amazed every man. Who is this among you that tosses our warriors aside with ease, and shatters this armor we were given? Who battles six of our mightiest at once, and lives; or wrestles three together, and is not borne down? Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°This we desire to know. For our war this day is not out of barest need, but for other purposes of our own; they may or may not include you. We would see and meet this man, whom the Gray Wolverine tribe believes touched by their patron spirit, so much strength does he hold inside him. The peoples of the tribes have spoken.¡± For the men of the Northwind have a sense of honor all their own, greatly prizing strength of arms, and they do not lessen in their tales the deeds of their enemies, however bitter the tales end for them. Then the men of Centhaer were astounded, Hal¨²mir himself not least; and Lord Iscanthir gave him leave to answer them. ¡°It is Hal¨²mir who has done these things¡± he shouted back, ¡°captain of the Centhaeras, men of Lord Iscanthir!¡± ¡°And what titles accompany such deeds?¡± the herald asked. ¡°Are you a son of the Gray Wolverine?¡± ¡°Say rather the Badger¡± he replied, ¡°and as for title, Hal¨²mir of the Mountains is all I could claim.¡± ¡°Nonetheless¡± said the herald, ¡°our chieftains¡¯ will is to see this champion of F¨²risburg, and test his worthiness themselves. Thus they say: come down! You shall not be hindered in approaching our host; and if your deeds please them, they shall hold council with your chief and with you, if you live. You are given one hour.¡± Then he was silent and spoke no more to them, but planted the white banner there in the field, and strode back among his fellows. Then there was heated discussion between the lord and his knights; for Iscanthir did not want the captain to go. He feared for Hal¨²mir. Though the barbarians were honorable in their way, the wildness of their hearts was dangerous and hard to fathom, and many of their most fell deeds happened in sudden anger, or unpredictable moments of explosive passion. He was also unsure if even Hal¨²mir could perform whatever challenge they might ask him to do. Yet Hal¨²mir would go, for there was a chance to spare the town (and even the countryside, perhaps) from a terrible battle. And things the herald mentioned had intrigued Hal¨²mir, so that he was eager to go down and gain any information he could. When he heard this, the lord would accompany him, to be his second or die with him if need be; and much talk was needed from the knights to dissuade him from this course, moved though they were. Finally Hal¨²mir agreed to take with him G¨²thlir, one of his closest knights in the lord¡¯s household. Sembold, his second-in-command, took the captain¡¯s place in defense of the town. The gates opened. There was no movement among the barbarians, and Hal¨²mir with G¨²thlir walked out to them. They could see the ranks of the wild men, standing silently ahead, many spearmen in their front lines; and the captain saw that, far on the eastern flank, there stood more of the pale men like the one they had captured. Though the barbarian warriors¡¯ faces showed many emotions ¨C some unfriendly, some curious, some excited ¨C the face of every one of these pale men was hostile. On reaching the white banner, the center rank of the wild men opened, forming a column they could pass through. Entering, they saw that behind the barbarian army tents had been erected, and the opening in the ranks led to the largest and centermost of these; it looked like a field tent for councils of war, and was lined with crimson banners. Before the tent, however, there were seated nine chieftains on wooden thrones, and about them many more on stones or stumps of wood, forming a full circle. Behind each chief was planted the standard of a tribe, and two warriors from each people stood near attending them. But then the same herald as before emerged from the host, and led the knights forward; and as they drew nigh the closest chieftain rose, and made way for them. So they stood before the thrones of the nine high chieftains, in the midst of the circle; it closed behind them. The herald announced them then stepped aside. There was a moment¡¯s silence, and the knights could feel the wild men appraising them. The air felt tense as with approaching thunder, but not with anger; the stillness was eager and expectant. Then the chief on the middle throne spoke. He was huge and muscular, and his voice boomed proportionate as he addressed the captain. ¡°Hal¨²mir of the Mountains. Greetings! I am King Urikel the Eldest, and these are the high chieftains.¡± He swept an arm about him, to the other eight on their wood seats. ¡°A mighty chief you yourself would have been among us, if you were born into our people. And if the tales we heard were true. Tell us! Where do you hail from?¡± And he answered ¡°I come from the Northern Mountains, that small range that runs from the Eastern Pass to the Bay of Blood, and the sea. My people love the mountains, and used to thrive there. But they are gone now.¡± G¨²thlir looked to his friend, surprised. The captain never told anything about himself; G¨²thlir had never heard even these barest details before (nor had Lord Iscanthir)! Moreover, Hal¨²mir seemed strange, grim and fell as he stood amidst his foes. G¨²thlir was unnerved. But he trusted his captain (and wanted to hear more himself), and so held his silence. Urikel looked interested. ¡°You come from afar¡± said he, ¡°yet you fight as one of the F¨²rislings, and one great among them at that. I see your strength as I look at you. Your heart is aflame! Please speak. Explain to us your prowess, and the source of your might in arms!¡± Then Hal¨²mir raised himself to his fullest height, and looked the chiefs dead in the eye; and though he was less in stature than many of them, he held such presence that they felt the challenge, and straightened their backs themselves. And he said, ¡°I am the last master of an old style, taught near where my people dwelt. This Way requires a heart of the mountain, as strong as stone, and also a heart of fire as you have seen. It is a style where resilience and fury meet. Few possess the inner strength to learn it. Let any test you have for me, come!¡± And G¨²thlir looking at his captain saw that a sudden intensity as of flame radiated from him as he spoke, and the knight took a step back; but the captain also stood with his feet wide and planted, resolute and immovable, emanating his hidden strength now for all to see. The barbarian king looked down from his chair, his face serious with anticipation, but there was almost a sorrowful tone to his voice when he spoke. ¡°Yes, let us begin. First, let your companion step out of the circle.¡± G¨²thlir did so. ¡°Now... For your first challenge, the tribe of the Gray Wolverine has asked to test you, whose heart is so akin to theirs. They name their champion, Lammik, to face you.¡± From the northwestern corner of the ring, beside a banner depicting gray beast on white field, there came forward the Wolverine champion. His size was similar to Hal¨²mir, if a few inches taller, and he carried in one hand a club studded with spikes; in the other he bore a round wooden shield. He too wore the dark plate armor, but on his head was the pelt of a wolverine, a silver-gray cloak on his back. Hal¨²mir stepped forward to meet him. ¡°The rule of the challenge is single combat¡± said Urikel. ¡°Armed and unarmed ye may fight, ¡®til one of you can fight no more. You may not leave the circle. Begin!¡± The two stopped ten feet from each other. The barbarian champion Lammik seemed excited, even thrilled, as he stood facing Hal¨²mir, looking the knight up and down. ¡°I am glad to meet you¡± he said, his eyes now locked on Hal¨²mir¡¯s as the two began to circle. ¡°Now I see you, I am convinced that you are, indeed, born of the Wolverine spirit, just in the wrong place. Let us see!¡± With that each leapt at the other, and the duel began. Several fierce blows were exchanged. Lammik¡¯s club rang off Hal¨²mir¡¯s shield, and likewise with the captain¡¯s blade. He was quicker than most barbarian men Hal¨²mir had faced, and both fought with a savage fury. But Hal¨²mir was more patient. As the Wolverine champion tired, expending his rage, Hal¨²mir seized his moment and leapt to the offensive. He advanced like a barrage of stones with a hail of heavy strikes, giving his foe no pause. Lammik fought hard; but Hal¨²mir¡¯s momentum was irresistible as a rockfall, and slowly the wild man gave ground. Time and again he sought to push back his enemy, lashing out with shield and club, trying to gain space so that he could dodge aside; but Hal¨²mir was relentless. He may as well deflect a rolling boulder. Feet from the circle¡¯s eastern edge, the Wolverine set himself and would give way no more, making one last attempt to withstand his foe. Then Hal¨²mir faltered upon his defenses, halted for just a moment. Lammik lunged, seeing an opening. But the captain¡¯s shield met his club, and drove it wide; and returning the strike as before in the forest, Hal¨²mir sundered Lammik¡¯s shield, the stroke carrying through to his armor and the shoulder beneath. Lammik¡¯s counterstroke bruised his side, but was ignored; and darting in close, the captain threw him back mightily with his shield. The Wolverine champion fell hard. He was outside the circle. There was silence, then uproar. From every side warriors and even chieftains were rising, shouting challenges, hoping to fight the captain next. The Gray Wolverine chieftain¡¯s eyes met Hal¨²mir¡¯s, and his face was hard; the champion was one of his sons. But there was respect in the gaze. A nearby man helped Lammik to his feet. Blood poured from his shoulder, but it was intact; he was injured and bruised, but not severely. He walked up to Hal¨²mir, admiration in his face and rivalry, but any heated passion he managed to restrain. There was no dishonor in surviving, if the contest ended with a survivor. He grasped Hal¨²mir¡¯s hand, then left the circle. Barbarian king Urikel shouted for quiet. ¡°Hal¨²mir of the Mountains is patient, tenacious, and clever, as well as very strong¡± he said, once silence fell. ¡°If you pass our next challenge, I may have a fitting name to give you. But see! Now you face Ornaer, son of Orni¨®s, and he will wrestle with you. He is chieftain of the White Bear. His strength may exceed yours.¡± Then from the leftmost throne a man arose, unarmored; and he carried no weapon as he strode to face Hal¨²mir. But he was clothed in a polar bear¡¯s hide, so it seemed, and his arms were very large. He stood a foot taller than the captain. His hair was a lighter blonde than any of the other chieftains, his eyes an icy blue. Hal¨²mir loosed shield and sword, and entrusted both to G¨²thlir, who then helped him out of his armor. At Urikel¡¯s word, the match began. Numerous times Ornaer grasped at him, but Hal¨²mir darted aside. When he could he lunged in, striking the chieftain; but the White Bear was far from worn down. Finally they closed. Hal¨²mir would wait for his foe to try to grip and crush him, then strike a heavy blow and shove him back. The Bear chieftain managed some blows of his own. Once, Ornaer managed to seize and throw him, and Hal¨²mir had to roll to his feet; twice he tripped the barbarian in return. But then the wild man brought his body in close, seizing him. They grappled desperately, establishing and breaking holds, attempting and denying locks. The barbarian chief was stronger than him; he was losing. Yet he refused to: planting his feet like mountain roots, he refused to be defeated. He met Ornaer head-on, and with furious effort managed to put him on the defensive, for a span. The Bear looked surprised, but roared and came on again, wrestling with all his might; and Hal¨²mir resisted his every attempt. He slammed the captain in the chest with a huge fist, maybe breaking bone. Unmoved, Hal¨²mir responded with a crushing blow of his own, and the crack of ribs was unmistakable. Ornaer was staggered, for a moment; but just long enough for the captain to grab him and hurl him, several feet away. He did not rise. Again there was silence, but no uproar came. Nigh all were shocked by the outcome. Two men of the White Bear went to their chief¡¯s side, and lifted him up. He was alive; and they led him out of the circle. The air remained tense and quiet. G¨²thlir was completely amazed. His captain came, and he helped him don armor again. He was now breathing hard, and looked pained. G¨²thlir talked quietly, encouraging him. Once he was armored again, the barbarian king Urikel spoke. His words were soft and solemn. ¡°You have a mighty will, knight of F¨²risburg. You have already won from us enormous respect. I said I had a title for you, and now I give it. You may have spoken in jest before the herald; but now I name you Hal¨²mir, Badger of the Mountain. I could count on one hand men who are fierce, strong, and perseverant as you. There were only two challenges; you have proved your worthiness, and may return now to fetch your chief so we can talk. But I have this request. Fight me. I long to go against you, and pit your indomitable will against the fury of the north. Therefore let us fight: Urikel, and the Mountain Badger!¡± Then he rose, and behold! he bore a large axe at his side, and a great shield. Hal¨²mir, wary, was nonetheless honored; and he knew it unwise to refuse the request. And he had recovered his strength, though still hurt. He assented. They met in the midst of the circle. King Urikel held himself with supreme confidence, but Hal¨²mir sensed a thrill of excitement in him, as well. He himself walked with the tiniest hint of stiffness. The king noticed. ¡°We shall fight only to the first blood, to the surrender, or ¡®til one of us is forced from this circle¡± he said, lessening the stakes. ¡°We may fight armed and unarmed. Perhaps you can show me some of your style, and this heart of mountains that is in you. For my part I will show you our people¡¯s prowess, and we may learn of, and from, each other. Are you ready? Begin!¡± Hal¨²mir feared he might be outmatched, and the first moments of the combat did not reassure him. With a roaring cry Urikel charged, his axe falling like a storm; the captain met his attacks, but had to rapidly give ground. The barbarian king wielded immense strength; and, in the height of his battle-fury, he did not slow or tire. He swept upon the captain like an avalanche, and Hal¨²mir had to fight defensively, dodging aside often. But Urikel was lightning-fast, and his evasions bought little time. Yet enough; for as he held off the wild king Hal¨²mir rallied his spirit, gathering all his strength for one last, desperate effort. Then with a cry he turned aside the king¡¯s axe, and went on the attack. Surprised, Urikel gave ground. The weight of the mountain was in his strikes, set against the burning blood of the north. But this was not Lammik: the barbarian king could indeed deflect the boulder. He retreated before Hal¨²mir¡¯s powerful onset, then at the right moment pressed his own. Back and forth they fought, rage unabated, as several minutes passed: the captain tireless, the king relentless, both refusing to give in. At last, Urikel hooked his foe¡¯s blade, and pulled; but with sudden speed Hal¨²mir slammed his shield into the king¡¯s axe-arm. Sword and axe tumbled away together. Smiling, the king cast aside his shield, as did the captain. They dove at each other and grappled, snarling. The king was larger, but the captain met him with everything he had; at first neither was brought to the ground. Gradually though, the fight swayed to its expected outcome: injured and overmatched, the knight began to lose. ¡°Tell me, Hal¨²mir,¡± the king said, ¡°can even the Mountain be brought down?¡± And Hal¨²mir answered ¡°Perhaps. But I surpass the Mountain.¡± Then, with tremendous strength, he made his last effort: with a huge shove he sent Urikel backward, and came at him one final time. They held the clinch, neither giving for many seconds. Then the fight ended, but not by their will. For as the battle raged G¨²thlir had watched in awe; but he had kept alert, knowing the danger of their surroundings. And lo! on the eastern side of the circle, one of the pale men had drawn up close, just behind the chieftains. And as the combatants held the final clinch he had drawn forth a bow, aiming at Hal¨²mir. With a cry G¨²thlir ran up, and sprang in front of his captain; and by some grace he made it in time, and the dart smote him instead. Then there was chaos: for the chieftains and their warriors seized the assassin, holding him down, while the king and captain inspected G¨²thlir. And he was alive; but looking at the wound Urikel said ¡°It is poisoned¡±. Then in wrath he shouted commands, and the barbarian tribes turned and formed their ranks against the dark-haired men on the east flank, shutting them out; but as yet they did not engage. The barbarian king faced Hal¨²mir. ¡°Well, Mountain Badger, it seems there is treachery in the air. We were persuaded with gifts to march alongside others; but I had my doubts. Now I know for sure that we have dishonorable allies beside us. We shall be rid of them. But as for F¨²risburg, fear not! We shall make no raid or attack for thirty miles in any direction from the walls. As for the rest of Farlending, well! You may warn them as you will.¡± Then he laughed, loud and strong. So it was that a barbarian honor guard, displaying the white banner, escorted Hal¨²mir and G¨²thlir to the town. They carried G¨²thlir; and though Hal¨²mir walked proudly, as soon as they were inside and the gates closed he collapsed on his lord¡¯s shoulder, exhausted. Watching from the walls, Lord Iscanthir saw the barbarian army turn upon its own eastern flank, and drive its men away. The rest of the army withdrew soon after, heading north. Later on the lord and his captain would actually meet with the barbarian king, to hold official council. Then it would be agreed that, by the barbarians¡¯ ways, Hal¨²mir was now the protector of Centhaer and its champion, and because of his prowess and his mighty deeds, no tribe would approach the town in war while he lived. They tried to come to some broader agreement regarding the North Kingdom ¨C the barbarians would have none. But for the moment, Lord Iscanthir kept his men in posture of war; and once his captain was able, they both went to question a certain prisoner they had taken, one with dark hair and pale face. As for G¨²thlir, he was able to recover from the wound and the poison over the course of many days. And the bond between captain and knight was deepened: the one was moved to the heart by his man¡¯s sacrifice; and the other held his leader in utmost reverence, awe, and love, on seeing his deeds and learning more of him. Indeed G¨²thlir came to know much more of Hal¨²mir¡¯s past. He became the captain¡¯s first student in the Mountain Badger style, the first who was ever deemed worthy. He has passed on much to G¨²thlir, and a few others; for these events happened not so long ago, and word of his deeds spread far. It is said that he still takes on students who are worthy to learn his way. To Centhaer go those who, hearing the tale, believe themselves to have hearts of the mountain. 4. Sç…¤alth? and Parm铆r 4. S¨²alth? and Parm¨ªr List of Names: This is a tale of the golden elves in their youth, in the dawning days of M?ad¨¢ln the Gleaming Flower, their greatest city. It concerns two friends, S¨²alth? and Parm¨ªr, Lords of the City and of the king¡¯s household; and it is a tale about the origin of their houses. Long ago, early in the Second Age of this land Sylvanalor, Seld¨²mar King of the Golden Elves lay encamped south of the mountains. It was but a short while (to the elves) since the end of the Great War: that conflict where the good peoples, under the banners of the angels, had defeated the hosts of the Enemy. While the angels continued their duties, seeking out those demons that remained in hiding, the goodly races had peace to spread and establish their realms. And time to mourn their losses. For terrible beyond imagining were the battles of that war, and the angels themselves sorrowed, laboring with only a portion of the souls that had once descended, singing joyfully, from outside. Now King Seld¨²mar had lost much, of his family and people, and he grieved especially for Seld¨²mai his father, lost in the war¡¯s last years. Remembering his smile and the warm light of his face, Seld¨²mar wept, and his people with him ¨C for the fallen king had been loved by all, one of the greatest rulers of the elves. But the people grieved for Seld¨²mar too, lost in his sadness; for he had led them through all manner of evil undespairing, a bastion of courage and hope, and had stood like a flaming pillar in the last years of the war. And now, brokenhearted, he set his camp beneath the mountains; and though his brother and sister and other lords had set out, exploring the golden-elf lands (and hoping in part to find something for his cure), he and the closest of his household remained, still in posture of war. Now those mountains were the right arm of what is called the Central Range, the arm that thrusts eastward over nigh a score of peaks. The nineteenth and last mountain slopes down, its eastern feet touching a plain called Last Hope¡¯s Pass: the very pass the Glormarl¨ªn dwarves held open during the Great War, despite unimaginable loss. That mountain the elves named ¨¢ntiel; and it was just south thereof that the king and his men were encamped. It was a high place where they lay their tents, and defensible, bounded south and east by mighty cliffs; but fair, flowing grass ran atop the plateau, between small meadows of white and yellow flowers. Indeed it was a place of loveliness that Seld¨²mar would not depart from, but he tarried there rather from grief. And yet at times he felt something else, a strange, elusive feeling that came and went; and so he remained, mourning his father, and waiting for he knew not what. It was in these circumstances that Lords S¨²alth? and Parm¨ªr began to explore. These lords were the youngest of the king¡¯s household, still youths by elven standard; and they were the most passionate by far of his people. This was not due only their age: for both were said to have blood of the Urivari, the Fire Elves, in their veins. True or no, such rumors were strengthened by their hair: for S¨²alth?¡¯s was a fiery orange, Parm¨ªr¡¯s a crimson red. Certainly the Urivari¡¯s wanderlust lay in them; and full of pity for their king but also afire with longing, they set out investigating their surroundings, to discover secrets and find hidden places. First they traversed the cliff to south and east, scaling its entire length, then continued to the gently wooded slopes below. There are other tales that mention the wild caves and fey places they uncovered there, and in other woodlands west of the plateau ¨C this tale concerns what they found turning northwards, as they ascended the mountain. The lowest slopes of ¨¢ntiel are gentle, and the lords had no difficulty in the climb. S¨²alth? led the way, admiring the gold and orange lupines at the mountain¡¯s feet. Parm¨ªr followed, his eyes on the trees ¨C small mulberries and large elms rose, here and there, now singing gracefully in stronger winds, now murmuring in softer ones. Despite the pleasure of the sights, the lords were arrayed for battle; for though they remembered it not themselves, they had grown all their lives among a people hardened by centuries of war. S¨²alth? was clad in scarlet mail, trimmed in gold, and at his side lay a sheathe of copper and brass, set with fire-opals; within was a razor-edged blade. Parm¨ªr wore a cloak of crimson, and beneath his mail glinted a dull red; but on his back was slung a bow of white ash. It was a gift of the angels, carved with patterns of swan-feathers, its string a glittering silver. His scabbard of red iron inlaid with garnets held a silver sword. As they went further the trees became few. Instead of lupines, the elf-lords saw steepening slopes colored with the fairest of flowers. They beheld columbines of heavenly blue and lightest yellow, and anemones of gentlest pink; other blossoms they saw that they did not know, like chimes of crystal and pearly bells on the mountainside. The winds became greater, and they drew their cloaks tightly about them. At one point a sudden cliff rose before them, rocky and steep. Feeling adventurous, the friends began the ascent (though turning aside might have revealed a gentler way). Mounting it unscathed, they turned atop the cliff and looked back. Already high above the camp, they saw far below the tents of their people, and flags of gold and white fluttering, emblazoned with images of the sun. There in the encampment¡¯s center was King Seld¨²mar¡¯s banner, and it was gold: the sun upon it flamed a golden-orange, and below bloomed fair marigolds and yellow roses. ¡°Therein sits our king¡± said Parm¨ªr, ¡°lost in the darkness of his sorrow, hiding in the shadows of grief. Remember, S¨²alth?, the story they told us, of his stand in the hills to the west? He and his brother were outnumbered a dozen to one, by demons of black scale and horn and fang and bone, but the defenses had to hold. No help could come. And he held them together for seven days, men falling all about him, himself wounded and sleepless. He led first of all, rallying the knights from every attack, charging again and again into the black fires to hold the breach. And they held, for seven days, until his father came.¡± They stood silent a moment, their eyes on the gold banner. ¡°Until his father came. The Great King Seld¨²mai, S¨²alth?, is never coming back. He rests in Al?¨¢rnil now. Do you think, friend, that we can really help the king?¡± S¨²alth? turned to Parm¨ªr, his brown eyes aflame with resolve. ¡°I am sure of it¡± he answered. ¡°Al?¨¢rnil the One did not make this land a waste, nor does he intend its purpose to be death and sorrow. He made this a place of life, and now that it is safe there are a thousand secrets to be uncovered, of wonder and passion and peace. We will find something to shake our king out of the shadows, and bring him to life again. I am sure of it.¡± Parm¨ªr smiled. The two lords turned northward again, and continued up the mountain. The slopes became rockier and steeper still, and the two reveled at the challenge ¨C for they were warriors of the golden elves, a strong people, and the young lords were athletic even by this measure. They struggled on, delighting in the exertion and breathing deeply of the high air. Suddenly the rockiness lessened a bit, and a belt of trees rose before them; but these were all large pines and firs, crying aloud in the winds. They stopped and looked at each other for a moment, and Parm¨ªr shrugged. Then they continued on toward the trees. As they drew closer S¨²alth? pointed, ahead and to their left. There lay a large boulder, alone just before the pines, and right in front of it there ran a small path, heading into the wood. S¨²alth? led the way over to it, and both were puzzled: for the path seemed to originate right there, and head up the slope to the trees; there was no sign of it at all going downwards! Investigating the boulder all the way round, they found nothing. ¡°A curious sign!¡± said S¨²alth? laughing. ¡°It leads right to the stone as if to a front-door. But no answer ¨C and no way in. Is it all in jest?¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Perhaps,¡± said Parm¨ªr, ¡°or some fey spirit of the mountain dwells here. But if stories we heard of old are true, some of our people¡¯s deadliest foes lurk in the mountains, or below.¡± The two were now alert. They had themselves fought goblins in the mountain passes before, and knew enough not to trust a seemingly normal rock. They had also faced giants; and both had heard tales of their ancestral enemies the T¨®rluori, the dark elves, as well as other evil things that lived beneath the earth. Hands to their swords, they turned north again and hurried on, following the path into the trees. It was not long before their concerns were verified. Amidst the evergreen belt, they found an open glade, surrounded by firs; but the entire clearing was burnt as if by fire. They drew their swords, S¨²alth?¡¯s with a red flash; Parm¨ªr¡¯s glowed silver-white. Their thoughts now wheeled to monsters of flame, and to tales of demons and devils fled, hiding in the mountains from the angels. Even dragons crossed their minds, for these too had fought in the Great War. But this was no longer an exploration, in search of beauty and magic. A terrible threat was near, it seemed, and dangerously close to their camp. The two locked eyes, and nodded as one. They went on. The small path led to the other side of the glade, and beyond. For a while it was lined with embers, flickering in afternoon light, but as they reached the end of the evergreen belt the smoldering signs disappeared. The path continued, however, now leading to a very steep climb. This craggy slope was clothed in mountain heather, in hues of amber and cinnabar and golden-orange among the rocks. Holding their blades in one hand, they labored up the slope, keen ears peeled for the slightest noise. But the winds continued, running through the heather, and no other sound could be heard. After a long time, they reached the last of the heather-clad rocks, and stopped to rest. They had come far higher on this last slope, and looking back their people¡¯s camp was now small in the distance. The path, curiously leading all this way, went still onward, and they saw ahead of them another belt of trees. These were unlike any they had seen before: for they were not tall, but stood almost arrow-straight, and their deepest-green leaves covered limbs gray as the mountain-stone. To left they ran for a hundred feet, before reaching a dangerous plunge where the mountainside ran straight downwards; the roots of the nearest trees hung gnarled and twisted over the sheer edge. To right the unknown trees ran ¡®til sight of them was hid by a far-off veil of mist. Walking up to the nearest tree, Parm¨ªr reached out and touched its trunk. ¡°It is hard and strong¡± he said. ¡°Strong as steel! In all the lore of our people, I have never heard of a tree such as this!¡± ¡°I have,¡± said S¨²alth?, ¡°but once only. It was in a tale of the El¨®rrim, our brethren the gray elves.¡± But before he could go on, there came a remote sound, and he gave a soft hiss of breath and pointed forward. Turning, Parm¨ªr saw it too: ahead and above, an unguessed span away, there was a blaze of fire. Though its source was concealed in the trees, beyond their sight, such was its strength that a soft glow reached to near where they stood. But as yet they felt no heat. They darted into the wood, taking cover; then, cautiously, they crept in the direction of the glow. Both were certain that some deadly dragon lay ahead, and that they would soon face its fire. But they were courageous lords, and imminent battle made them daring, not afraid. Parm¨ªr sheathed his sword, took up his white bow, and pulled out a glimmering arrow. They advanced toward the flames together. After a minute, the stony trees began to lurch upward. An incredibly steep rise, almost vertical, presented itself, gray trunks marching up its side. Still the path was there, winding between outflung roots, and they followed it as they were able, using those roots and occasional branches to maneuver themselves up, slipping on loose stones all the way. As they went the glow grew stronger and stronger. A few minutes later, they reached the top of the rise: beyond, the ground seemed to turn gentle and almost flat. Huddled against the cliff-side just below, they waited, listening. Then looking to each other, on some silent signal they leapt up as one, and rushed onto the even ground. And this is what they saw. Before them lay a beautiful plateau. It extended for a furlong before them, and a hundred yards on either side; the sheer rise they had just overcome surrounded it, but on the opposite side towered yet another cliff. Here and there a gray rock protruded from the level ground, but all else was clothed in a glory of colors. For an alpine meadow covered the place: short flowers like mountain phlox, in swirling patterns of ruby, vermillion, auburn and gold, flowed like a sea of fire. Biterroots of rose and saffron and brilliant white dotted the field like a thousand stars. And here and there small azaleas blossomed, islands of coral and cherry-red and carnelian like dancing flames. But at first, none of this held their attention; for in the plateau¡¯s center, upon the largest rock, there perched a phoenix. Its breast was aflame with crimson, scarlet-orange, and lightest gold. Massive wings lay folded at its sides, and below razor-clawed feet rested on the rock. The feathers of its neck and back and sweeping tail were a deeper red and red-orange; and on its face, flanking a terrible beak, were pure golden eyes. The sunset from the west bathed it, and all the plants around. The elf-lords froze. The magnificent bird was looking right at them. They sensed that it was formed of an ageless flame ¨C older than imagining, and yet unchanging ¨C something hotter and intenser and more alive than they had ever known. And an inner fire they sensed from it, more powerful still. Awestruck and afraid they gazed upon it, motionless. S¨²alth?¡¯s sword fell from his hand, and Parm¨ªr dropped his bow. Long they stood there while it looked at them, perfectly still; and though the young lords told that they stood long, if they or the firebird spake any words they have kept silent. On a sudden it raised its wings, and they were tremendous: a score of feet each way the mighty pinions spread, realgar feathers burning with a pure, consuming flame. Sparks of gold radiated from it, as it rose into the air, and from its splendid tail embers fell like garnets, red as blood. The two cried out in terror and fell to the ground. But even as it lifted its wings, an incredible song came to their ears. Indescribable as the thought of Al?¨¢rnil the One, its floating melody descended on them, seizing their hearts. Of that music this tale tells little, for the lords could not express it. Lovely and piercing, they could only tell that it held a sadness unsurpassed by anything in their lives, but also the most passionate love they had ever known; a love so urgent that they felt it in their inmost selves. Neither lord ever forgot that music, and they carried it in them for the rest of their lives. Looking up at the firebird¡¯s majesty, they saw it look back at them, once more, and hold them in its eyes. Then, with a soul-wrenching cry, the phoenix beat its huge wings, a single time. A gale spread through the meadow; and, with an eruption like a firestorm and a flash of blinding flame, it vanished. Thus were born the Seventh and Eighth Houses of The Gleaming Flower, City of the Golden Elves. For though they did not move for a long while after the phoenix disappeared, when they did they descended the mountain immediately to see the king. Returning to the great camp they passed straight to the center, and those who saw them were astounded. For an inexpressible emotion lay in their faces, between ecstasy and urgency and adamant resolve; and they walked with utter purity of purpose, as they strode to the king¡¯s tent, more sure of their errand than any knight or lord the people had ever seen. Many were frightened, and some whispered that they were possessed, but others said they came with tidings of some great evil, and of coming war. Fey they seemed, or else transformed by something unimaginable. Yet they had audience with King Seld¨²mar, telling him of the great firebird in all its power and beauty; and such was their fervor, but at the same time their perfect peace, that they convinced the king to accompany them in seeking out the creature. And, as has been writ elsewhere, they found it not again. But exploring the mountain King Seld¨²mar came upon the Golden Dragon, and speaking with it he was comforted, and inspired to build M?ad¨¢ln, the City of Brilliant Flowers, greatest achievement of the golden elves. That is another tale. Suffice to say of this one that King Seld¨²mar made the two future Lords of the City, appointing to S¨²alth? the Seventh House and to Parm¨ªr the Eighth. This caused no dissension among them: for deeply called by the sight, Parm¨ªr sought a life of contemplation, and only with reservation accepted even the least House of the City at urging of the king. And S¨²alth? named his House the Fireflower, remembering ever the mesmerizing flame-burst as the creature disappeared; but Parm¨ªr, never forgetting his sight of the beast nor its unquenchable, immortal song ¨C named his House the Phoenix.