Soul of Darkness Chapter 2

Apprentice

The wind blew lightly amongst the trees of the forest, unlike most days in the deep woods the sun fell like columns through them onto the dry leafy autumn ground. The woodlands surrounding Havalon were rich with thick trees and plants while the weather was usually bleak as it was a wetter climate, which though caused everything to be green and to blossom with beauty also brought usually a light mist to settle on the forest floor. The skies at most times were overcast with grey clouds which would shadow over the country side letting in the right amount of sunlight so as to make the bleak countryside a more comfortable living.

This day however was different. The sun was peaking through the trees, drying out the moist soil on the forest floor and dispersing the mist. In the distance, across the river the white walls of Havalon city sparkled in the sun light. Inside the granite walls the people wandered about freely going in and about their daily business, ever so relaxed and comfortable with the day.

Deep in the forest on the other side of the river however, there was one soul who did not share their feelings. A young Elf lay close to the ground. He breathed only when needed knowing that his foe was close. Breathing too loudly he knew would give away his position. Moving slowly amongst the fallen leaves that cracked at every move he made the Elf knew he did not have much advantage over his foe as far as stealth went. His light colored clothes, blonde hair and blue eyes that could be seen from a mile away, but he also knew his opponent was far more skilled than he was. He hadn’t lost yet and there still could be an element of surprise on his part. Still, he wanted to be sure he could win before he made the attack.

A stick broke from behind him. The young lad turned toward the noise. There was nothing. Only the silence of the woods and the wind was heard. Maybe it was a bird, he thought, or a rabbit. He couldn’t lose this standoff. He just couldn’t.

He moved closer to the tree he was using as cover. His opponent had to be on the other side, Or so he thought. Clenching his teeth and drawing his wooden weapon he moved to the other side and struck at the tree with force. Nothing was there.

He could have sworn he was there. Where could he have been, the young Elf thought as he disappointedly turned away from the tree to head back. Suddenly he was pulled off balance and into the branches by Cornelius who placed a wooden sword across the young Elf’s neck.

He had been waiting in the trees above waiting for the opportune moment.

“You still need to learn to watch your back, Galatin. Looks like I win this one,” The man said with a smile. Cornelius chuckled at the look of surprise upon the young Elf’s face as he lowered Galatin back safely to the ground.

“I thought I had you for sure that time,” Galatin stated once he caught his breath and as he anxiously pushed out of the clutches of the Cornelius’s hands. “One day I will be good enough to win at this game Cornelius.”

“You still need a couple hundred years before you will even come close,” The monk laughed as he placed his wooden toy sword neatly in his belt.

Galatin frowned, attempting to make it appear that he was angry at the reason he had lost yet once again at this particular game. But he couldn’t hold onto to it for too long as the monk bellowed away laughing long deep laughs that Galatin couldn’t resist from joining in.

Finally the man began to regain control of his feelings “Alright Galatin, that’s enough for now. We’ve got work to do. The sun will be out for only a few more hours, best get it done while we still can.”

Galatin sighed. The moment was over. It seemed he was never allowed to have much free time. What fun he could have was usually passed with the human who was his mentor and the only parental figure he had ever known.

Years had passed since that night their fates had eclipsed, though Galatin looked of a lad of 12 years of age he had in fact just turned 24. Elves lived on average for almost 300 years, making it hard for such a small child to continue with daily life knowing that he had almost eternity ahead of him.

Cornelius in his kindness had taken the child in to raise him as one of his own. He did not take him far away from the city; in fact they were only but a few miles from the walls. Cornelius had thought that perhaps it would have been easier to take him to live with the men or another race but he knew it wasn’t in this boy’s destiny to do so. He belonged with his people and one day they would have to accept him as one of their own regardless of any mark he carried. Something was different about Galatin. There was something special.

At times Cornelius couldn’t help but be afraid for the future of his small charge. Though the monk had the power to live for quite some time for a human, maybe even an extra hundred years, he could not always be there for the child he had loved and protected all these years. One day Galatin would have to make a choice and he hoped that that choice would be the right one.

The sound of horns echoed in the distance coming from inside the city walls. Galatin rushed to the top of a hill for a better look followed closely by Cornelius.

“It’s the Elven Armies returning from the rebellion in the far south,” Galatin shouted as he watched with excitement toward the sight in the distance.

“It appears they have ended the conflict,” Cornelius concluded at the sight of flags and festivals passing within the inner walls.

“I wish I was there celebrating with them. I wish I could have been down south with the army fighting alongside them and having a hero’s welcome at my return,” The young Elf began day dreaming of riding a dark stallion into battle, gleaming in his silver armor. His green cape flying in the wind from behind him as he entered the city gates with a roar of crowds.

“You dream a foolish man’s dream, Galatin,” Cornelius said causing the Elf to lose his thought, “Wars will only bring pain and suffering. They bring men to their knees and they lose everything. It doesn’t make a man a hero to take a life. Look at the sacrifices one must make in order to have victory. How many men can you see on horses returning to the city in glory?”

Galatin looked toward the city and understood what his teacher was telling him. He remembered when they had paraded out of the city. There had to have been more than a thousand soldiers. Now there were only half. He looked at Cornelius and listened intently.

“The true heroes were the men who died so that these men could come home,” Cornelius said answering his own question, “A life, no matter who it belongs to, is still a life. It can never be restored in this existence. Think strongly before you take one.”

Galatin nodded then continued to gaze towards the city in sadness. He understood what his teacher was telling him but he couldn’t hold back his desires. “When will I go down? I wish I was there now with them.”

“You’ll have your chance one day, my son,” Cornelius said thoughtfully as he placed his hand gently upon Galatin’s shoulder. Then turning he mounted his horse, “Now, I want you to go down to the river and bring some water up to the cabin, don’t cross it you know the rules, it’s too dangerous for you to cross into the city and keep your knife on you. I shall meet you home after hunting.”

Galatin nodded and reluctantly mounted his own horse not far from Cornelius’s and moved toward the river.

It was a beautiful ride down to the river only about a mile or two from the cabin. There were trees and usually wildlife passing along the trail. The mystery and the thrill would cause any other person believe this ride to be breathtaking, Galatin however found it quite boring. He had taken this trip hundreds of times and the only thing he could think of was what lie beyond the river. How he wished he could cross and at least touch the walls of Havalon. Cornelius had taught him that he was forbidden to cross it let alone get anywhere close to the wall, there was too much at stake. Many wanted him dead and he had been taught of what had happened many years ago. For twenty four years he had carried this mark and watched the city from afar that he longed to call home.

Upon reaching the bank, Galatin carried two canteens toward the shore and began to fill his first. Gazing slowly to the other side he wondered what could possibly happen if he were to venture across? After all there was obviously no one waiting on the other side. What would happen if he went there? Thoughts raced through his imagination as he continued to fill the canteen.

Stopping his task he looked around. There was no one on the other side. What could happen? From what he could see he was alone. This was his chance now, and there Galatin made the decision, he was going to cross it. He mounted his horse. Slowly and cautiously he crossed the small rapids to the other side.

A feeling of excitement rushed through his heart as each step he took made him closer to his goal and farther than he had ever ventured before. Finally after what seemed to be forever in his mind, Galatin dismounted his horse and for the first time in his life touched the other side.

The view looked the same as it did on the other and yet the excitement grew within his heart. The thought of the unknown flew through his mind, what he could find and do now that he was there.

Slowly he began to walk away from his horse down the bank and curiously gazed into the trees. Suddenly, without warning a log from behind the trees slammed into Galatin’s face and before he knew what had hit him he found himself face down in the cold water of the shallow shore.

 He could feel his blood begin to seep through a small cut on his forehead and flow into the clean water. He couldn’t even tell which way he was facing, north, south, east or west it almost seemed that the earth was rotating around in circles at high speeds around him.

Before his mind even had a chance to stop spinning, Galatin was jerked out of the water and pinned down face first into the sand by someone who, placing all of his weight upon him with his knee to the back of Galatin’s head, held him down motionless. With much effort the attacker pulled Galatin’s right arm backward and viewed the mark upon his wrist.

“This is it.” The figure upon his back said to his companions. Apparently there was more than just one attacker Galatin thought as he listened closely to who was around him. He couldn’t let them get away with this but he also knew that unless he had a clear vision of how many he was up against it would be pointless to even try to escape and run.
                Another voice was the heard from what Galatin thought was his left. It was a rather weaker voice than that of the first. “Silly ass! Didn’t even see us coming, did you!” he said towards Galatin’s ear.

They were both young, or so it seemed by their voices. Perhaps the same age as Galatin. “Is he awake?” asked the second one now with a bit more fear in his tone.

“He fell pretty hard when I hit him, my guess is that he’ll out for some time,” said the giant oaf that was on Galatin's back. “Now that we have him, what do you say we should do with him?”

“We could take him to the city council and let them take care of him, maybe perhaps we would be rewarded for our bravery and be accepted directly into the royal army,” squeaked the other in an unsure voice.

“We’ll tie him up for now, Aremos!” A third voice was heard to Galatin’s right coming from what he thought might be the trees. His voice sounded more stern and with confidence almost with arrogance. He was sure now there were only three or at least he hoped. Now the question was how was he to get out of this mess?

“Cal! Tie his hands!” their fearless leader‘s serious voice ordered from the right.

Cal who was apparently the large brute on Galatin’s back grabbed his right hand and began to start a small knot with a rope.

Galatin had to think quickly. If he were to get out of this what was his best bet? Suddenly the idea came to him. He had a knife in his saddle bag on his horse. He began to predict how far she was judging by her breath, she hadn’t gone far, twenty, maybe thirty paces. If there was no one in his way he could make it blind. Now the only thing he needed to do was to hope that Cal would loosen up a bit for him to get loose. Then what? Cal had to have been twice his size and he could guess that Aremos had to be in his way of running to his knife. Then there was his mysterious foe who could be anywhere and with any weapon. He had to think quickly. Slowly his left hand sunk into the sand. Galatin could feel the warm grains filling his palm. He knew what he had to do.

Cal, finished with tying the right hand of his victim now began to find his left in order to tie them together. He moved his weight off of Galatin’s head and began to search for the hand which was tucked under Galatin’s chest. This was it! Thought Galatin, he could feel the pressure fade off his upper body. He could now break free.

Quickly he turned over and threw the handful of sand straight into the eyes of his captor. Cal rubbed his stinging eyes with agony and tears as Galatin punched him in the face and broke free. Swiftly he stumbled to his feet and took a quick glimpse of his attackers.  

There were three of them, just as he expected. All were young Elves around his same age. Cal now hunched over and rubbing his watery eyes looked like a pampered fat brute while Aremos appeared as a scrawny shameful maggot of the bunch.

Without getting a clearer look at the third Galatin ran toward his saddle with Aremos right behind him grabbing his shirt to pull him back down at every step.

“Get him Aremos!” Cal screamed from the ground in a deep and whimpering voice.

Kicking off the scrawny whelp, Galatin made it to his saddle. He reached in and could feel the small blade of his knife in his hands. Pulling it out Galatin blindly slashed downwards toward his attacker who had come up behind him.

Aremos squealed in pain and fell to the ground. Holding the side of his face as blood leaked through his fingers. He had slashed down the side of his face barely missing his eye.

“We can take him, Natelius!” Cal now on his feet went in for the attack. Charging toward Galatin he lunged his heavy body and tackled him to the ground. “Get the sword Nate!” Cal shouted toward his leader as he held Galatin pinned down.

Natelius ran toward them drawing his sword. Galatin lost his knife from the hit he had taken from Cal but this time he was facing his enemies. Cal was twice his size but there was one thing Galatin knew he wouldn’t be able to stand and his knee was in the right place for it.

As hard as he could Galatin drove his knee into the Cal’s groin. The big oaf screamed and moaned as he fell backwards into the river. With haste Galatin crawled to his knife and faced his final opponent. Now he saw him clearly.

Natelius, with his sword drawn stood with pride and authority. His head was shaven and as well as his partners wore dark green cloaks and black tunics. Galatin recognized the clothing; they were students from the academy training to become knights. He wasn’t too much older than he was. In fact he could have been the same age or maybe younger.

A crooked smile broke through the scowl the young student carried as Natelius lunged toward the dark Elf with his weapon. Galatin jumped backwards and dodged the strike. Quickly he moved once again to his horse to make an escape but was grabbed furiously by Natelius around the neck dragging him to the ground. He scrambled to get up but was kicked in the side by Natelius who was now standing over him with his blade pointed to Galatin’s neck.

“This is it!? This is all you got!?” Natelius mocked as he kicked Galatin once again in the face causing his nose to bleed. “This is the Dark One we all fear!? Where’s the monk now when you need him!?”

“Behind you,” Cornelius’s voice echoed as he rushed from behind and with his staff and knocked down Natelius from his feet. The young apprentice quickly looked up to his attacker with horror in his eyes.

Cornelius stood as a god towering over his opponents. Looking into their eyes with a stern look as his hands clenched tightly his staff.

“Go home! All of you!” Cornelius yelled. “If it happens again I won’t be so merciful!”

Natelius scowled with anger toward the monk. Then with haste ran into the woods toward the city followed closely by his young friends Cal and Aremos.

Cornelius sighed a sigh of relief and then helped Galatin up onto his feet. “You should probably think twice before you disobey and cross the river,” he said in a very calm voice. “It looks like you’ve been punished enough though by your new friends as well as them by you.”

Galatin brushed the blood from his head and pressed against his cut across his forehead, “They came up on me without warning, I didn’t even hear them,” he said in regret.

“They wouldn’t have had a chance if you’d been aware of your surroundings.” Cornelius replied as he picked up the knife on the ground and placed it in the saddle bag. “All the same, you sure put up a good fight. Come, let’s get home and we’ll talk about all this later.”

Nodding and without saying a word, Galatin mounted his horse alongside of Cornelius’s and led the way towards the small cabin in the woods.

Nothing was said the entire trip, Galatin felt sick to his stomach knowing how disappointed Cornelius was that very moment. He felt if he even tried to say anything he would vomit.

The cabin was a nice cozy cottage built in a small clearing deep in the woods. It was a one room hut that was big enough for the two of them. A small fire pit lay in front of the house where they did there cooking and received warmth during the colder times of the year while on the side was a small humble stable built out of sticks where they housed their two horses and a donkey.

Once reaching the stable and tying his horse to the wooden rod lashed between two trees Galatin walked to the small house and sat down next to the fire. Cornelius shortly approached and with a lightly damp rag began to tend to Galatin’s wounds.

“I want you to teach me,” Galatin finally broke the silence. “I want to learn how to fight so that next time I can stop them.”

Cornelius continued to dab the cut across Galatin’s forehead, “You’ll need to keep an eye on this cut so it doesn’t get infected.”

Galatin didn’t say another word. Once Cornelius was done he slowly got up and headed for the hut.

“Get some rest son, you’ll need it for tomorrow when we begin your training,” Cornelius said still staring towards the fireless pit.

Confused and a bit surprised Galatin turned back toward the man, “What do you mean?”

“I won’t be around forever Galatin. Perhaps you can learn my teachings to better yourself,” The old monk then got to his feet and walked away into the stable.

Slowly Galatin entered the small hut and lay down on his small bed. He was filled with a different feeling now, a feeling that he couldn’t quite describe. Tomorrow he would learn to become his dream, what he always wanted to become.

 He pondered for a small moment about his attackers; he remembered perfectly the face of their leader Natelius as if it was engrained permanently in his mind. A chill sank deep within his bones. He knew that this would not be the only time he would confront his new found enemy. With that thought Galatin closed his eyes and went to sleep.