Nightfall (Book 1) (13 page)

“Now we just need to get you a case for that,” she said, nodding toward the bow I held in my hands. “And I need to teach you how to use one.” She smiled cheekily.

“What makes you think that?”

“I can tell by the way you hold the bow that you have never learned to use one.”

“Ah.” She was right. I had never so much as held a bow before that day.

~ ~ ~

The next morning I awoke to Izar wildly shaking my shoulders. She let me know just how displeased she was with the amount of effort it had taken in order for her to wake me and then she shoved a plain bow into my hands and hauled me to my feet. Next, she handed me a quiver of arrows and I did not even get the chance to change into fresh clothes before she was pulling me out of the house. The air outside was crisp and cool; the pre-dawn light lent a silvery sheen to the landscape and everything was peaceful and quiet. Other than the willows’ drooping branches being blown by a soft breeze, Izar and I were the only moving creatures to be seen as we walked along the paths toward the bridge.

The sun was just creeping above the treetops at the far side of the field as we reached the clearing, warming everything with its soft, red glow. The field dedicated to archery was just to the North of the fencing grounds and only a few people were scattered about it, some of them shooting at obvious targets marked with circles of color while others’ targets I could not clearly discern. Dew sparkled in the sunlight on the grass all across the four fields and I had not taken even a dozen steps before beads of moisture were slipping from my leather shoes.

Izar led me to one of the large, round targets marked with circles of white, yellow, red, blue, and a black dot dead in the center. She demonstrated how to hold and aim the bow, but did not release her arrow. I mimicked her stance, held the bow with my left hand and pulled the arrow back to my right cheekbone with the same hand. She made minor adjustments to my stance and the form with which I held my weapons and scolded me whenever I let the tension on the string slacken. When she was finally content with my pose, she told me to return the arrow to the quiver and bring my left foot back into line with my right.

She then had me step back into position, bring an arrow to aim, and then return it to the quiver. Staying in that position she had me aim a few more arrows, and then she had me repeat the entire process a multitude of times, before she was satisfied with my speed and fluidity. “I think my arms might cramp up.”

“Good,” Izar laughed. “Take a quick break to relieve some of the tension and then I might let you shoot at the target.” I took her advice and when I clenched, and then stretched my hands, I realized just how much my fore and middle fingers on my right hand had cramped. I eagerly sat down a few yards behind my sister and just let my arms and hands hang limp at my sides, while I watched Izar take up her stance and carefully aim at the target. She let loose the arrow and it embedded itself within the blue ring, near the black center. She then let loose a volley of arrows, the first hitting the bull’s-eye and the others ringing it as tightly as possible. She waved for me to follow her when she retrieved her arrows and I realized that she had actually made a pattern. Her ring of arrows was perfectly aligned on the border between the blue and black parts of the target, too perfect to be called chance.

I whistled. “This is my first time, so do not expect me to paint a vista with my arrows.”

“You are my brother, how could I expect anything less?” she teased.

I took up the stance and pulled an arrow from my quiver, painstakingly making sure that each element of my pose was as Izar had instructed. “Please, I would like to get on with my life. Can you at least get one arrow out before the next harvest?” Her comment distracted me and the arrow went flying somewhere into the forest. She bent over laughing, her folded arms curling around her waist.

“Oh come on,” I exclaimed. “Did you have to?” It took her a moment to somber up, but then she
promised not to interrupt me again. The next arrow actually hit the target and it was even in the yellow ring. Izar made a sound of neutral opinion and I brought a third arrow to aim. The next few arrows landed haphazardly within the red and yellow bands.

“You must not be compensating enough to make up for the wind resistance.”

I made another slight adjustment to my aim and this time the arrow landed just next to the black mark. “That is what I am looking for,” she exclaimed. “Now let us get you a few more of those and you will be as good as the average human archer.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

“I grew up human, give us some slack; we were not exactly made to be superhuman.” She shrugged, conceding the point.

It was only later that day when Koldobika sent word that we would be leaving early the following morning. We quickly packed the few personal belongings which were our only responsibility to take and then decided to spend the remainder of the evening at the dueling arena. We were making jokes and laughing as we exited our home, but the presence of a cloaked figure walking toward us put a damper on our mood. Expecting to regain the merry attitude once the stranger was behind us, we spoke quietly, generally ignoring its presence.

“Izotz.”

I stopped in my tracks, surprised to hear my name coming from the mouth of the stranger whom we had just passed. I slowly turned around, wondering who the person was and how they knew my name. “Who are you?”

I got no reply for a moment, but the front of the person’s robe was disturbed and then a sword, still in its sheath, was brought out before the stranger, who kept his face hidden within the depths of the hood. “I may never regain the small amount of trust that I might have had, but if I can, I would attempt to repair it, or at least repay you for the wrongdoings I made against you.” The voice was definitely male, but I could not think of anyone with whom I had a grudge, at least not anyone without the boundaries of Caernadvall…except…

“Mattin?”

A weary sigh escaped his chest and he finally pulled back the hood of his cloak. It was indeed Mattin. “I was a fool to let the others persecute you and to laugh at you, and say the things I did. I sincerely regret having broken your trust when you had given it without cause.”

“What brought on this change?”

Probably a good-looking female,
Izar sneered, only letting the words sound in my mind.

“It is not hard for the Lord of a haven to hear of things, and Basajaun—do not think ill of him because of this—is my uncle. He gave me a hearty reprimanding.” He chuckled darkly at the memory.

“So this change is not sincere? It is merely a ploy to convince your uncle that you have changed?” Izar demanded, stepping forward to confront him.

“No.” Mattin actually looked offended that she had thought such a thing. “Izotz, when you arrived, my uncle immediately began spending longer hours with—and more frequent visits to—the Council. He would not tell me what was happening in those meetings and I began to assume that you were trying to wrest control of the haven from him.” Before I could interject, he quickly added, “Many others have wondered if you would not require control, or even kingship, over the nations in exchange for fulfilling the old prophecy.”

I glanced at my sister to confirm the suggestion and she nodded. “Reason leads me to believe that I should not trust you,” I finally said, “but I will grant you forgiveness, though my trust has yet to be earned back.” I then turned to leave and Izar gladly followed at my side, but Mattin called for me to wait a moment.

“What about this?” he held up the sword that previously had been offered.

“I have no need of it,” I said and continued walking. He trotted to catch up with me and then stopped directly in front of me.

“This I would ask that you take for my sake. It is the only way to prove to Basajaun that I at least attempted recompense. He would never believe me if you had not accepted this.”

“Then I will let him know that you asked for my forgiveness.”

“No. Please, take this. You do not know what it means to me.” I raised an inquiring brow. “And I do not care to explain at this time.”

He is rather demanding for being the one in need of acquiescence,
 Izar commented.
And I do not trust him. He may have had the blade cursed.

“Alright then, come duel with me and I shall consider accepting your gift.” Mattin nodded and stepped aside so that my sister and I could take the lead; he quietly followed behind, and the cheery mood never quite returned as we made our way to the field.

~ ~ ~

That night the accumulated anticipation for the following day’s events left me restless and a few hours before sunrise I finally gave up on sleep and made my way to the river to wash up—also hoping that the cool water would help to calm my nerves. I managed to find a tranquil pool next to the river and removed only my shirt before fully immersing myself in the water; I kept my head beneath the surface, until it was necessary to come up for air and then I sat in the waterbed near the bank until my hands and feet began to go numb from the cold. The air was warm compared to the water and I left my shirt off as I walked home, letting the breeze warm and dry me.

Izar was awake and dressed for the trip when I returned and she was in the process of burrowing through the contents of her rucksack. “Good morning,” I said cheerily and she mumbled a hurried reply. I left her and exchanged my clothes for clean ones, then cinched a thick leather belt around my hips and tied various scabbards and loops to it. In one of the scabbards I placed the dagger from Ganix; there was another loosely holding three throwing knives made of white metal, and on my left hip I carried the broadsword that I had eventually accepted from Mattin. The sword was a fine creation, its entire form made to perfection; along either side of the blade it had pale runes from an old elven tongue that was near dead—only a basic knowledge of the meanings of the runes remained. In my right boot I carried the dagger from Eskarne; only the hilt could be seen peeking from the top, just below my knee.

I also had a quiver full of arrows slung over my right shoulder, and attached to it was the case Izar had loaned me to carry the bow that had been a gift from Baso Argi’s master bowyer. Certain that I was
ready, I grabbed my pack, and joined Izar in the main portion of the house. Her rummaging finally complete, Izar had a dagger at her side and carried a bow and arrows over her shoulder.

When she turned to face me she laughed and said, “Expecting trouble?”

“Not particularly. Why?”

She merely chuckled and refused to answer. “What is so funny?” I asked. “Why?” I repeated, but she would only shake her head in amusement. I scowled at her and then we left for Ganix’ home and smithy where we were to meet Koldobika and Basajaun.

~ ~ ~

“Here they come,” Ganix announced as we approached the shop, his words bounded through the empty street toward us. Ganix greeted the two of us like old friends and was about to slap me on the back, but thought twice about it and decided not to; apparently he did not feel like having to replace the things I
carried on my back.

“Ah, I see that my old dagger has collected some wealthy company,” he nearly shouted in delight. Apparently the sword Mattin had insisted that I keep was an old heirloom amongst the native elves. The ogre rambled on about the history of the blade, the metals used in it, and the techniques used to create it. The first topic I found interesting but the latter two he might as well have been reciting in another language for the little I understood.

The sharp sound of horseshoes beating against the flagstones interrupted Ganix’ sermon and through the early morning mist rode four mighty elves astride magnificent chargers. Behind each elf plodded another beautiful steed, their lead-ropes tied to the saddle of the preceding one.

“I would like to introduce your guards,” the elf Lord said as the four elves dismounted. “This is the leader, Alesander, and his men: Balendin, Erlantz, and Sendoa.” They all wore full-body, hard leather armor, overlaid with metal plates which boasted exquisite details in the form of silver vines, complete with small leaves all along their lengths. The only difference in armor between them all was the winged helm that Alesander wore. Each of the guards carried two daggers, one small and the other nearly the length of a forearm. Each carried a broadsword and shield on his back, a longbow and full quiver of arrows attached to his saddle, and in their right hands each carried a spear.

The four guards inclined their heads in greeting and then Basajaun introduced me, Izar, and Koldobika to them. “I assume everything is in order,” he said. There were quick nods all around and then I followed everyone to where the horses waited patiently for their riders. The horse I was directed to was pitch black with a wave in his flowing mane and tail; he even had a lush feathering of hair falling over his hooves. His withers, though, were high as my chin and I was not lacking in pessimistic thoughts regarding mounting him.

The beast was truly magnificent, but I was terrified and bordered on panic. I had never before ridden a horse, so I waited for Izar to mount hers before I attempted the ordeal. Following her unassuming example, I hoisted myself into the saddle and sat there, having no clue what I would do next.
Izar.
 I had to call her name a few times more before she diverted her attention from her own steed and turned it to me. She maneuvered her horse around the others’ and managed to line it up exactly alongside mine. “What?”

“I do not know how to ride,” I said.

“Oh great, you had to tell me now?”

“It never occurred to me that we would be riding,” I defended. “What do I do?”

“Well, hold on and hope the horse does not decide to bolt,” she said, with an evil glint in her eyes.

“I am not riding,” I said and started to dismount, terrified that the horse had heard her and might do exactly as she had suggested. The horse had other plans for me and, though it did not bolt, it started trotting away; the lead-rope had been discarded so it was basically free to go wherever it wished. My next thought was to leap from its back and save myself from whatever untimely demise it had planned for me.

Get in the saddle,
Izar commanded. It took me a moment, but I finally complied and eased back into the saddle. The horse immediately stopped.

Now what?
 Izar walked her horse over to mine, grabbed his bridle next to the bit and led him back to the group, with me uselessly perched on his back.

“He has never ridden before,” Izar explained with embarrassment, to the crowd of curious faces.

“Then you will stay beside him and instruct him until satisfied. Now it is time for you all to leave,” Basajaun said. Izar nodded her head, glad to accept the assignment if it meant a change in topic.

“Let us be gone,” Alesander said. He pulled the reins lightly to his right, clicked his tongue, and the horse turned and trotted back down the street, followed shortly by the wizard and the three remaining
guards. Izar grabbed the reins on my horse—I realized then that they had been sitting in front of me the entire time—and she guided both our horses in the direction the others had taken.

I lifted my hand in farewell to the elf Lord and Ganix, who both watched our departure. As we passed through the Northwestern border of Baso Argi, Sendoa stopped his horse and waited until Izar and I had caught up with him. The elf had tanned skin; his hair was long, black, and tied into a multitude of thin braids, and he had a thin white scar tracing down the left side of his face.

“Do you not trust that we will be able to protect you?” he asked good-naturedly. I then realized the meaning behind my sister’s earlier comment on my choice of weapons; I hoped it was not a choice that had offended the guards too badly.

“No. How will I ever be able to defeat Zigor, though, if you are always there to fight my battles for me?” I asked.

“Ah. Well said.” The elf smiled and I knew that I had not offended them.

“Does my horse have a name?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“That fine stallion which you have been given is called Aitor, which means ‘good fathers’—and it is no lie, for he comes from one of the finest lines of sires in the land.”

After the small talk had run its course, Sendoa left Izar and me to return to his companion guards. Shortly thereafter both he and the one named Balendin moved behind us, to the very back of the party; Alesander and Erlantz rode in the front and Koldobika followed just behind them. All four guards stayed alert for any signs of enemies or an ambush; they listened and watched with eyes sharper than a hawk’s, but they also relied on the senses of their horses, which were bred and raised specifically for the purpose of keeping their riders and others in their company safe and out of harm’s way.

~ ~ ~

By the time we had stopped for our evening meal, I had learned the essentials of riding a horse and Izar no longer had to oversee my every action, though she would give me a tip every now and then. As the very last light of the sun disappeared from the small patches of sky far above our heads, we made camp. Each of the guards took a two-hour watch and then it was morning and we continued on our way. We kept a Northwest heading through the Oihana forest until we came to an oval-shaped clearing with three trees growing in the very center. After the clearing we traveled
North for another day, at the end of which we arrived at the edge of the forest. Lush grasslands stretched as far as I could see—in the dim light of evening—in every direction but South.

~ ~ ~

During the morning of our first day crossing the grasslands we were overtaken by a blustering storm, with the heavens emptying themselves of torrents of angry rain right on our heads. In contrast, the second day dawned bright and clear without a single cloud in sight from the previous day’s storm. The sky was a deep blue and the sun shone down with fierce heat, for the first few hours of daylight.