Читать книгу Vanor: The Journey Begins - Vicki Inc. Wilson - Страница 4

The dapple-grey warhorse lunged again at the nearest wolf. He bit hard into the black fur and threw the beast aside into yet another snarling wolf. Vanor had been taken from the saddle only moments before as a large black wolf had leapt high, with teeth bared, tearing a large gash to the bone in her leg. She had somersaulted backwards off the saddle and had landed on her feet ready for the next onslaught. Vanor fought hard and strong, slicing through wolf after wolf with her thin glowing longsword. It danced in her hands as her robe of chain mail jangled and sang, small flurries of snow kicked up with each movement.

But they attacked again attempting to reach the stallion’s mistress on the ground behind him. The stallion fought hard, dodging the bared teeth of the wolves, but there were too many in the pack. Then the stallion squealed with pain as a wolf raked its belly. They were down to four wolves now but these four were tougher and stronger than the others combined. Vanor jumped over the wolf that had broken its neck when it had attacked her in the saddle moments before and sliced through another snarling wolf; it yelped before its final breath and landed on the reflective snow.

The remaining two wolves retreated through the snow leaving blood trails in their wake. Silence descended and Vanor limped over to the stallion, clutching her leg as the pain swelled in the wake of receding adrenaline. Vanor touched Freckles’ proud neck as his laboured breathing became apparent. He turned and looked full in her eyes and held her gaze for a moment. Then those large dark eyes closed for the last time and he fell on top of her, and everything was pain and then darkness.

Vanor woke confused as everything was white, her face was cold and she could not breathe. She coughed and then the snow fell from her face and she realised she was pinned to the snow. She had pain, lots of pain, and then she remembered and in shock and disbelief, struggled away from the weight.

Standing and shaking with cold and trembling with remorse, she reached down and touched the now cold neck of Freckles. Tears streaming down her face, she remembered the night he was born and how he had walked up to her on trembling legs and nuzzled her hair and then returned to his first drink from her father’s prized mare. She could even remember the smell of the barn, the taste of her mother’s cooking and the good times she had when she was only eight. Two years later things changed when the wolves came down from the hills and killed her father’s horses and nearly her as she had been tending them. But Freckles had galloped like the wind away from the carnage with Vanor badly wounded on his back.

Freckles had taken her unconscious body to the local inn and had kicked at the door for someone to come and rescue her. Apparently he had waited there all night, biting anyone who came close, waiting for her to recover, and only then would he go to the stables and rest. The blacksmith was then allowed to come close and stitch his wounds. They had become inseparable in the years since and she now regretted the stupidity of this journey, the draw of something she could not define and her loss.

Tears drying in the cold wind, Vanor knew that with the baying of wolves in the distance they would not be long. The snow was almost sleeting as she collected all she could carry and staggered under the weight of her pack, her misery and her pain. She felt the snow easing off slightly and she stumbled and almost fell as she trudged onwards.

Eventually she tripped over and fell onto the embankment at the side of the road. As she tiredly stood up, she knew from memory that off to the right, just above that small hill, she would be able to see the lights of Ruthin twinkling in the distance. The pain was worse and each step seemed to be getting shorter and shorter until she stumbled and fell into the soft snow and lay still, wanting to forever sleep. Sleep was good, sleep now and everything will be better, sleep... and she tumbled into that darkness, not resisting or fighting, just falling.

The three friends laughed at the bawdy pitiful joke that Kajn told as he took off his chain mail and breastplate and placed it in the corner of the room. The handsome dark knight with dark eyes flashing, chuckled at his own joke as he reached for the mug of warmed ale his friends had poured for him. The fire crackled and hissed in the corner of the room as they all discussed who was going into the tournament the next day and which events each would be competing in.

The oak door crashed into the wall as the Old Man, his cobalt blue robes shimmering about him, stormed into the room and swiftly moved to the table of friends.

“NOW!” cried the old man. “I need you to go now.” His voice rattled dust from the tower’s rafters and he continued. “I don’t care that it’s snowing. I don’t care that you will be playing with your friends early tomorrow, I need you to go NOW!” His brilliant blue eyes flared with anger and even the tall dark-haired knight cowered slightly. They were left alone as his friends fled; they knew that the Old Man could easily turn them into something nasty or worse ratlike – with a glance when he was this angry.

The old man quietened and swiped his wooden staff across the table. Spilling the drinks that were half consumed he lay out a hastily drawn map that showed the nearby town and outlying roads. “She will possibly be at the Inn in Ruthin or on the North Road. She is riding a dapple-grey warhorse and has a longsword that I gave to her years ago and she is not afraid to use it. She is to come straight here before the end of the full moon has run its course for the ritual.

“She will not know of this ritual but will be compelled to travel with you,” the Old Man said. He sighed: “the last scrying showed that she was close to Ruthin, on the south side heading here. Your horse is saddled,” he added dismissing him with a wave of his hand.

The knight glared at the Old Man, “And who is this young waif?” he sneered, “that you would send a champion out to play nursemaid for a faster journey. Who is she that is so important to you Old Man?”

The Old Man’s eyes flared. “She is the Beginning, the Future and perhaps also the ‘One’. She is to fight all present and future evils and needs our help to get there. She has been given talent by the Gods to help the balance of good, but she has no way of knowing how to use these talents yet. This is our mission. You are part of the equation to help her learn to be even better than a knight, to think on her feet and to always strive for the greater good.”

Kajn relaxed his gaze and realised now that the Old Man would not humiliate him in front of his friends unless it was for a great cause. His anger subsided and was lost in the dark corner of the room. His mission would bear great consequences. “Did you saddle the black?” he asked, strapping on his shoulder armour. The breastplate with dragon insignia flashed silver in the candlelight. Kajn wondered why being a champion did not let him relax as the weight of the armour made his muscles ripple in the firelight.

The Old Man furrowed his brow and then held his head and looking distressed answered, “Of course, you will find him in the courtyard. I feel something is happening, please hurry,” and the Old Man was gone, with only a mote of light sinking slowly to the floor to show he had even been there.

On cold nights like this, the innkeeper seldom left his old wooden rocking chair by the fire as he sipped his mulled wine. His inn was successful enough that he could let everyone else do the work on slow nights like tonight. The two local farmers chatted away quietly in one of the booths; a drunkard had fallen asleep and was snoring softly in the corner but he seemed to be comfortable.

As the innkeeper was just nodding off in his chair, the door opened, letting in cold wind and snow flurries, revealing the dark knight. “Innkeeper, have you seen a young girl traveller come through here tonight?” The knight looked distressed and his snow-covered armour and cloaks were leaving icy trails in his wake. The innkeeper frowned at the muddy boot prints left on his just cleaned floor.

“A girl? No, only my girls are here tonight. Dorothy is over there by the bar and Marion is upstairs asleep.”

The knight sighed and looking temptingly at the fire and ale, turned around and headed out the door again, leaving only the now melting snow and mud on the floor. All could hear the warhorse gallop off into the distance. The innkeeper was bewildered that a knight would travel so fast and furious in this kind of weather and he sipped his warm mug of wine, pondering the insanity of one such knight.

The galloping horse made no sound as it dashed into the snow-covered track of the North Road. They had made good time to Ruthin but Kajn had been disappointed that the girl was not at the inn. Kajn pushed the black to jump a snowdrift over the road and was surprised into nearly losing his grip on the saddle by the black shying sideways. Kajn regained control and wondered what was beneath the snowdrift that would scare the horse. As it snorted and pranced, Kajn watched the snowdrift turn from a clean white to a patch of red and he realised that it was not a snowdrift at all.

He leapt out of the saddle, drew his sword, but as he got closer he saw a slender black boot that was surely not a male’s. He quickly uncovered the body of a girl who was covered in deep gashes and wounds. One very deep wound was bleeding profusely from her leg. There were tears in the chain mail and something white and triangular fell onto the snow. “Why would this girl be wearing chain mail?” he thought. He picked up the triangle of white and from the light of the full moon he growled, “Wolves, I might have known.”

Kajn placed his bandanna onto the deep wound and then placing both hands under the girl’s back, gently cradling her in his arms, he lifted her onto the black. “Damn, I hope this won’t take long,” he murmured to himself as he cantered back to the inn. The sword lay glowing blue in the snow and quietly winked out without anyone noticing.

The innkeeper fell out of his chair and spilled his wine when the knight booted the door in. “Innkeeper, help me with this please.” The innkeeper rushed to the door and noticed the knight carried a bundle of blankets. The girl murmured something and the innkeeper jumped again.

“It’s just a girl, but she’s badly injured and needs help. I have to return to my quest. Look after her and I’ll return soon.” The knight dropped a bag of coins on the bench and as he did so the girl opened her eyes.

“Who, where?” Vanor murmured. Kajn looked at her and was instantly mesmerised by how blue her eyes were. They seemed to have flecks of light that danced in his soul.

“I ... I’m going out for a moment,” he said, “but I’ll be back.” He turned and dashed out the door, leapt into the saddle and headed out of town.

The innkeeper grumbled and yelled out to Marion to clean up the mess that the knight had again left on his floor. With the help of Dorothy they carried Vanor upstairs to a spare room. Marion noticed the blood trail that Vanor was leaving and mopped that off the stairs before someone slipped and hurt themselves.

Meanwhile Kajn was again on the North Road. “What a stupid thing to say,” he confided to his horse but he had other things on his mind and he was now late. When he passed a farm further along the road, he could smell the wood smoke from the chimney and wished that he could be in front of a nice comfortable fire somewhere. His hands were freezing as the cold wind whipped around him and froze his face.

Kajn galloped the black for as long as the North Road took him, passing rivers, farms and trees at a blurring speed. When the road came to an end and the black was lathered in sweat, he was exhausted and turned the horse to head for home. He walked the black for some time, listening to the night creatures in the forest and feeling the heat from the black’s body as he steamed in the chill air. He remounted after a while and continued his journey. Kajn was nearly nodding off in the saddle some time later, when the black snorted and pranced. They were back at the place they had found the girl.

The black pranced around the snowdrift but continued on. Kajn soon saw where the girl had stumbled through the snow on the side of the road and on impulse he turned the black to follow her path. It was not far when he came across the carnage. One lone wolf could be seen slinking away from the carcass, mauled and injured, but its belly satisfied. The snow was red with blood. “How could one girl do this much damage?” he thought aloud.

The sun had just risen above the east forest when he walked around and inspected the assortment of bodies. Twelve wolves, two naked headless bodies and one horse lay dead in the glittering snow. He came closer to the mound that was obviously a horse and started to unstrap the saddle to give to the girl. When the saddle slipped from its back, he stood stunned, as beneath the snow, the horse’s colour was dapple-grey.

Vanor awoke from the nightmare of the previous fight, crying for Freckles, until she realised she was not in the snow but rather in a warm bed with a girl cleaning her wounds. It was a small room and the only light was a flickering candle next to the bed. The pre-dawn light could be seen through the window but it had not reached the room yet and she watched a bird land on the window, trilling an early morning call. The girl washed the cloth in a basin again and turned back to Vanor.

The girl’s hair was a soft dark brown and fell over her face as she moved. She made a small intake of breath as she realised that Vanor was awake. Gathering her composure, she said, “Don’t worry, I’m helping you. My father the innkeeper sent me to clean your wounds, although with the amount of blood you’ve lost, you’d think that it was a lot worse than it is.” The peasant outfit that Dorothy wore rustled as she stood up and rinsed the cloth again.

Vanor looked to the wound and realised she had no more pain from her leg. “Yes, I seem to heal really quickly. My name is Vanor by the way,” she said in a croaky voice.

“Oh, here’s some water,” said Dorothy handing over a mug. After drinking the water, Vanor felt refreshed but she felt the unease of the calling that was pulling her more urgently to get a move on.

“By the way, how did I get here?” Vanor asked as she gulped down another mug of water.

As Dorothy rinsed the cloth again she replied, “A knight left you in our care earlier. I don’t know who he is but I have seen him here sometimes.” Dorothy looked back to Vanor on the bed and realised she was getting dressed. “Where are you going? You’re not healed yet,” Dorothy cried out as she tried to get her charge back into the bed.

Vanor looked at the girl and knew that she did not know where she was going but needed to go now, otherwise it would be too late. “I don’t know but I do know that I have to go. I’m sorry but I have to leave now.” She walked around Dorothy, picked up her gear and half stumbled down the stairs though she was feeling a lot better.

The other patrons were not awake yet so the innkeeper set the fire going for their breakfast and was about to go back to the kitchen when Vanor stumbled down the stairs. He looked at her with mouth agape, surprised when she asked, “What do I owe you for the room, Sir?”

He stared at her in disbelief and replied, “Someone who was carried in close to death only four hours ago, bleeding from a deep wound is now fit, healthy and ready to go back out to God knows where, who are you girl?”

Vanor looked at him and replied, “I have found that I do heal easily, but I need to travel now. Please, I would like to pay my bill now so I can get going.”

The innkeeper looked at her perplexed, “Ummm, well actually the knight who carried you in paid for your room and Dorothy was happy to help so no payment is necessary.” Vanor looked surprised, and after asking the innkeeper for some fresh bread from the kitchen and leaving a thank you note for the knight, she left the inn just before the sun rose.

Tom the sheep farmer, with his sheep leading the way to the markets at Ruthin, passed close to where Vanor had entered the road and wondered what had gone on with all the wolf, horse and human tracks in the snow. So far he had had a bad morning with his wife being sick and he having to get his own breakfast. How could she, when she knew that he had a big day today? His dog had to be beaten to go out in the snow, and his son had run off in the night to get away from him.

He was trudging behind the sheep when he noticed something glowing in the snow and went over to investigate. All the sheep had walked around something on the road. He stopped for a moment and saw a shining blue longsword that looked very expensive. With greedy eyes he reached down and grabbed the hilt and lifted it above his head.

For a moment, nothing happened and then his hand sizzled and he felt the pain through his cold fingers. Dropping the sword he plunged his hand in the snow to ease the burning. His day had not improved, and he removed his now burned hand cursing to the Gods for his bad luck. He chased the sheep away and thought of ways to pay back everyone who had caused him misfortune this day.

Vanor realised that her sword was missing and knew that she had it when she had hit the North Road, so she planned to quickly return for the sword without wasting too much time. She arrived just as the sun was rising and within minutes found her sword. A strange smell of burnt flesh was in the air but she could only see sheep tracks on the road. She was always amazed at how her sword glowed as soon as she picked it up but anyone else who lifted it got a bad burn on their hand.

Maybe the Old Man who had given it to her years ago had put a blessing on it that made sure no one stole it from her. As she was pondering the strangeness of that meeting so long ago, she heard a snarl and looked back just in time to see a wolf pounce on her with teeth bared. “Not again,” she thought to herself, as she fought to stay in control. The wolf had torn a large gash in her sword arm and it was bleeding profusely, so she quickly swapped the sword to her other hand. “This doesn’t look good,” she thought. She rolled up onto her knees, and punched the wolf in the nose. It yelped and backed away for a moment but then circled her looking for an opportunity to attack.

Blood dripped down her sword arm and Vanor knew she had to end this fight quickly or be at a disadvantage from lack of blood and dizziness. She baited the wolf to let it find an opening that did not exist and she attacked again and again. Finally the wolf lunged at Vanor and with teeth bared tore at her shoulder, but Vanor was ready. She plunged the sword deep into the chest of the wolf and was taken to the ground by its weight. She had lost all her strength and she found she could not get out from under the dead wolf. She closed her eyes to stop the world from spinning and fainted.

As Kajn bundled the last of the contents of the dead warhorse’s gear into his own, he heard the sounds of a fight behind him. He looked over to where he had come off the North Road; someone was fighting a wolf. He leapt onto the black and urged him into a gallop heading towards the fight with sword drawn. When he was close to the road, he couldn’t believe his eyes as the girl he had rescued the night before was fighting a wolf with great skill and determination. Before he could reach them, the wolf leapt onto the girl, but she was ready and plunged her sword through the body of the wolf, trapping herself beneath it.

He raced over to the girl and jumped from the saddle throwing the wolf from her body. She was unconscious again, but with new wounds as unbelievably the old wounds had healed. He wrapped the wounds with part of the sleeve of his shirt and carried her to the black, mounted and mumbled to himself, “This is becoming a habit.”

Back at the tower, the Old Man’s eyes were furious again. “You say you found her and took her to the inn first? What were you thinking?” Kajn winced and tried to appeal to the Old Man. “She wasn’t on her horse, and you didn’t really give me much of a description, and I really didn’t think that she would be this beautiful,” he blushed.

Vanor was unconscious on a marble platform, with her wounds bound. Kajn walked over to her and stroked the side of her face gently. “She is alive and she seems to have healed herself easily within a few hours. What makes you think she cannot do it again?” he said quietly.

The Old Man mumbled, “I think that I’m going to have to make these teacher knights a lot older as I can see trouble brewing with these two. Damn!” but he said to Kajn, “She’ll be fine, but we will need to do the ceremony, even if she’s unconscious, as she’s lost a lot of blood. We’ll do this tonight.”

The smell of incense burning pine and spruce awoke Vanor from her slumber. She felt warm again and felt smooth fabric touching her skin, but she seemed to be on a cold surface. Even though she did not know these voices that were raised, she felt calm and safe somehow. With eyes too heavy to open, she melted back into the darkness.

She had been to the healing temple so many times in her dreams that she now felt its presence. Looking at her hand, she realised that it was glowing, but then again so was her whole body. She mounted the steps and walked through the pillars and the last arch to the temple. She could see the glowing figures surrounding her. She knew that she had to walk down the steps and lay herself on the marble slab.

The twelve figures she could never discern between male and female, eased her down and placed their glowing hands on her temple; she felt detached for a while. She watched as they worked on her body, moving their hands over her, healing the gaping wounds as they did. She always felt in awe watching this ceremony and they always made her feel welcome. The hum of the figures slowly faded as she watched them move away. When she felt fully back in her body, she turned to them, bowed, murmured a thank you and walked through the arch and back into the darkness.

Kajn watched in awe as the injuries to her body disappeared. Even the Old Man came over and smiled when he saw what was happening. “Ahh she is the One,” he said and smiled. While the Old Man unbound the bandages and found all the wounds to be only pink scars, he turned to Kajn. “You are the teacher by whom the One is to be taught. You are to teach her all the skills you know and study with her all the evils of the world so she can be prepared. She will be in great danger and peril and you must learn to let her be as she will be. Do not hold her back from any danger unless she is ill prepared. You are not to return to your friends or duties until your quest has been fulfilled or the One dies and another is to take her place and yours,” he said.

He continued, “This is the beginning and unless we perform the ceremony now under the full moon, great evil will devour this land and all others. Go now and return with five of your closest and most reliable friends so this may be so.”

Vanor awoke to a slight hum of power from an old man standing in the centre of a pentagram of power. His whole body was glowing, with light coming from the centre of his temple to the other six people surrounding him and hitting her chest. It was not painful but she felt the power being drawn into her and she was at ease somehow. She looked around at the men and recognised the one who was now being called forth.

His white loose-fitting shirt that was laced at the front formed three crosses that showed off his muscular features. He turned his eyes to her and she fell deeply into those large dark pools. Smiling at her he winked and she knew she was awake.

The Old Man took her hand and the knight joined them as the power grew. She glowed with white light and when it finally subsided she found herself alone with this tall dark man. He gently kissed her hand and helped her off the marble slab.

“I am your guardian, I will protect and teach you, if you let me.”

She knew it was right somehow in the pit of her stomach and when she looked at that strong jaw line and those dark eyes, she knew that he would be with her forever.