The Bowl of Souls: Book 01.5 - Hilt's Pride Page 11

  Rising out of the mist was a great boulder at least twice Hilt’s height. A human hand print was impressed into the rock about a third of the way up. A large hole opened at the base of the palm and hot water gushed out.

  “What is this?” Beth asked.

  In response, Yntri trotted up to the boulder and ran his fingers over the hand print in the rock. All the while, clicking at them.

  “He says that this is the source,” Hilt translated. “This is the water that carved out our path in the cliff face. This is the spring that feeds the lake below.”

  “I see that. And it is strange that there is a hand print there, but what does that mean to us?” Beth asked.

  Yntri sat on the ground cross legged next to the boulder and placed his Jharro bow across his lap. He took a small tin out of his pack and opened it to reveal a white paste. He clicked at Hilt for a moment, then closed his eyes and began to sing. It was a low intonation interspersed with clicks. While he sang, Yntri dipped his fingers into the paste and began rubbing it into his skin.

  “What is he doing?” Beth asked.

  “He is preparing himself,” Hilts said, his brow knit in concern.

  “Preparing for what?” Beth asked, a sudden ominous chill running up her spine.

  “He says we are nearing a holy place. He is preparing for battle.”

  VII

  “What does he mean when he says we are nearing a holy place?” Beth asked. “And why does that mean a battle?”

  She turned to see Hilt’s concern turn into a smile.

  “That means holy guardians,” he said, gripping his sword hilts with both hands. “Whenever there is a holy place where men are not allowed, guardians are placed.”

  Beth swallowed. “What are these guardians like?”

  “Misshapen beasts. Immortal hungry creatures whose only reason for existence is to devour those that come too close,” he said, nearly giggling with excitement.

  Beth put her face in her hands. She had seen that expression on his face before, right before he blundered into the cave looking for the behemoth. “And I take it these holy guardians are one of these creatures of legend you are so eager to fight.”

  “No, but they are the next best thing. No one makes it past the guardians.” Hilt noticed her expression and frowned. “Don’t look at me like that, Beth. I didn’t come here seeking them out.”

  “Yes, but if they are holy guardians, why would we want to find them?” she asked. “Let’s just leave them alone and get to the top of this mountain.”

  Hilt looked at her in disbelief. “Don’t you see? The top of the mountain is exactly the place they will be guarding. It has to be. Look, Yntri knows it.”

  The elf continued to rock back and forth, singing his little chant. He had covered two thirds of his body with the white paste and the tin was nearly empty. Beth shook her head.

  “But why would the prophet send me to the top of the mountain if no one is allowed up there?” It made no sense. Surely if he meant for her to arrive he would open the way.

  “That’s why he sent you to me,” Hilt said, his smile sure and confident. “I am here to help you fight your way to the top. Yntri was here to make you a bow. The prophet planned it this way.”

  Beth wanted to smack the smile off his face. It was that stupid pride of his again. Still, she couldn’t refute his logic. Everything had indeed fallen into place to set up this moment. “Just promise me that we won’t fight these guardians unless it is absolutely necessary.”

  “Of course,” Hilt said as if it was ridiculous of her to think he would do so. “You don’t seek out a fight with holy guardians unless you’re on the wrong side. You only fight them if you have to.”

  A frightening thought came to her. What if this really was what the prophet had intended. She went into the forest seeking death. What if he had sent her to die up here instead? What if her whole purpose in coming was to drag these two men along? Hilt, handsome, honorable, and reckless; Yntri, ancient and wise. What if they were all supposed to die up here to fulfill some strange purpose?

  Yntri finished his chanting and stood. He was covered in white from head to toe, his ancient brown eyes the only bit of color. He clicked at them and began to walk.

  As they started up the ridgeline towards the cliffs ahead, Beth felt sick with worry. And she was angry with the attitudes of her companions. It wasn’t just about Hilt. Yntri looked so happy. What was wrong with these men?

  “I don’t understand, Yntri,” she said. “I expect Hilt to be crazy, but why are you so pleased to go into this battle?”

  Yntri clicked a response and Hilt said, “He has felt the weight of importance about your journey from the beginning. But he made a realization last night as you told your tale. For some reason, he feels like the end to his centuries of searching is tied to you.”

  Was it as she feared? Beth swallowed. “But why? What is he searching for?”

  “I don’t know,” Hilt says. “I’ve known him for years and he has never told me.”

  “Yntri,” Beth said with pleading tone. “Tell me. What are you searching for on these pilgrimage of yours?”

  The elf clicked an answer.

  “He searches for the true seeds,” Hilt translated. He frowned. “Yntri, neither of us knows what that means.”

  The elf gave him a pensive look, then directed his gaze to Beth. He moved up beside her and held out his hand. It was covered in the same white paste that covered the rest of his body. She glanced at Hilt, but the warrior just shrugged. Yntri gave an encouraging nod and she held his hand and they continued up the sloping ridgeline.

  A strange warmth emanated from Yntri’s hand. Beth felt it enter her skin. The warmth was familiar and she recognized it as the sap from the Jharro tree. She had felt it when Yntri smeared the venom on her lips. The warmth traveled up her arm and neck, settling between her eyes. Her vision began to drift and Yntri began to talk. As Hilt translated, a vision formed in her mind.

  Yntri’s earliest memory was of standing at his mothers’ knee and watching his father converse with a human man. The man came and knelt in front of him and reached out. Yntri toddled into the man’s arms and was lifted up. The man smiled and spoke with him and though Yntri could not remember the man’s face, he remembered feeling safe in the man’s arms.

  Yntri’s parents followed as the man took him through the Jharro grove and came upon a tree. This one was young and unruly, only fifty feet high. So far it had rejected the hands of his people as young Jharro were oft to do. But as the man reached out and touched the warm gray wood of the tree, its trunk split open. The man kissed Yntri on the forehead and placed him inside. The tree accepted him within and closed around him, encasing him in sap. He learned of the young tree and it learned of him. When he was born again from its trunk, his parents were waiting for him but the human man was gone.

  This man, whom Yntri came to know as the prophet returned to the Jharro grove every hundred years or so. He would speak with Yntri’s people and initiate the young ones. Eventually Yntri sired his own child and the prophet came to speak with him. He told Yntri of the importance of maintaining the grove and of passing on the knowledge of the old ways and Yntri covenanted to do just that.

  The wilderness around the Jharro grove eventually grew wild and untamed. His people maintained the grove and kept it clear of weeds and unclean creatures and kept to themselves. But Men and monsters learned of the magic of the Jharro tree and came seeking its power. Yntri was put in charge of protecting the trees from encroachers, and there were many wars and many deaths.

  When the prophet next returned, he was saddened. The grove had been damaged, with many of the trees dead or dying and Yntri’s people had dwindled to a fraction of their number.

  The prophet soon guided a large tribe of humans to the grove. They were the Roo, an uncultured but proud people that had been driven from their land. The Prophet brokered an arrangement between their people and Yntri’s. The Roo could settle in the la
nd around the grove and Yntri’s people would teach them and provide them weapons from the Jharro trees. In exchange, the Roo would protect the Jharro grove. The Roo-tan nation was born.

  The Jharro grove grew again for a time, but slowly. Then it stopped growing all together. The trees stopped producing seeds and one day nearly two hundred years ago, the prophet had returned again. This time he met with Yntri and gave him a mission. Sensing that the grove was in danger, the prophet had traveled the known lands and planted Jharro trees in obscure places. Once a year, Yntri was to leave the grove and travel to one of these locations to try and harvest seeds from these trees. These new seeds would have new life and new memories that would revive and replenish the grove.

  Yntri had accepted the mission with excitement, but he had not known how frustrating these pilgrimages were going to be. Successful trips were few and far between. Sometimes the trees had been discovered and cut down, but more often the tree he found had grown wild and strange. The few times he had found thriving trees, he had left them with trepidation knowing that they were vulnerable without a caretaker and also knowing that his people were too few in number to look after the trees themselves.

  It had been fifty years since he had last found a viable tree and most of the grove had grown stale and stagnant. A few of the oldest trees, including his father’s and mother’s trees had become stiff and unmaleable, refusing to talk to the elves at all. Yntri feared that the days of the Jharro tree were coming to an end.

  This year he had ended his pilgrimage despondent. The tree he found had become foul and rotten, inhabited by an evil thing. But he had met two humans with strong spirits, heirs of the bow. One he had left to ripen on his own, but Beth was nearly ready. The time for his mission to end was fast approaching.

  Beth took a deep breath and realized that Yntri had released her hand. Her mind slowly returned to the present. Hilt was standing beside her, speaking to the elf in hushed tones. He had his swords drawn and ready.

  They had arrived. She stood at the top of the ridgeline and saw the cliff that protected the peak rising before her. She looked back at the long ridgeline behind them. How had she missed the climb?

  “What do you want to do, Beth?” Hilt asked. “The cliff is too sheer, but maybe there is a way farther down or around the other side.”

  “Yntri . . . his story . . .” The elf watched the path before them, ancient and small, but with such a heavy responsibility resting on his shoulders.

  “I know,” Hilt said, his kind eyes taking in her confused gaze with concern. “And I hope that he finds his answer here just as surely as I know you will. Now, focus with me. This is your quest. Are you ready to proceed?”

  Beth turned her attention to the path ahead. This place was strange. Hilt was right about the cliff wall. It was unnaturally smooth and unmarred. There would be no hand holds. At least none that she would be able to use. At the bottom of the cliff was a wide flat area clustered with trees. But they weren’t pines like she would expect, but lush leafy trees, as green as if it were summer.

  “I think you’re right. We need to continue along the side of the cliff and find a way up,” she said and realized how obvious the statement was. It was the only option they had. Hilt had only asked her the question to help her clear her mind. She looked along the cliff base and saw round shadows periodically through the trees. “What are those round shadows, just at the cliffs base?”

  “Caves, we think,” Hilt said and now that her focus had returned, he was once again brimming with excitement. “Maybe that’s where the guardians live. Or maybe there is a way to climb to the top from within the mountain. We won’t know until we scout it out.”

  Beth nodded and pulled her bow from her back. The viper awakened at her touch. She drew an arrow. “Let’s go.”

  They walked down to the base of the cliff and Beth realized something else strange. Her clothes were still damp from their climb up the waterfall, but she didn’t feel a chill. She hadn’t since Yntri had started his story. The air here should have been frigid, but it was warm as a spring day.

  When they reached the tree line, they found a pathway stretching along the cliffs base. It was clean and free of leaves as if it had been well maintained. They stood in front of it and looked hesitantly at one another until Hilt stepped boldly onto the pathway.

  Beth felt a strange stirring inside her. There was a slight ringing in her ears and her vision tightened around the edges. Shadows moved within the trees. Whispers rang out in her ears. No. The whispers were in her mind. She couldn’t make them out at first, but then they became louder, more insistent, a chorus of voices, each one unique. Each one plaintive.

  “Named one.” “Leave.” “So hungry.” “Ancient one.” “Come.” “Eat you.”

  Beth looked at Hilt and Yntri. They were looking at her with the same question. Hilt pointed to his head and nodded. She felt a slight sense of relief that they heard the voices too.

  “LEAVE THIS PLACE.” “Dance with meeee.” “Your answer . . .” “Play with us.” “EAT YOU!” “Witch.”

  “Witch?” Beth said, gritting her teeth. She tightened her grip on her bow. “What do we do?”

  “Run.” “Come.” “So tasty.” “LEAVE.”

  “We have no choice,” Hilt said and Yntri nodded. “We fight. It’s the only way to reach the top.”

  “Devour!” “BONES.” “Come, witch.”

  “But the voices . . .” Beth said, resisting the urge to place her hands over her ears.

  “It’s part of their attack,” Hilt said. His body was at the same time loose and ready, yet tensed like a coiled spring. “They’re trying to scare us, distract us, drive us mad. You need to ignore them.”

  “Named one.” “Eat.” “Eat!” “Witch.” “EAT YOU ALL!”

  Beth looked to Yntri. The white paste on his skin glowed eerily and he nodded at her. She looked back to Hilt. “I’m ready.”

  “Good. Stay between us and shoot when you have an opening,” he said, and they started down the path.

  “YES!” “Yesss.” “EAT YOU!!”

  Shadows moved all around them. Yntri released an arrow into the trees. Hilt swung his blades, sending blades of air ahead of them. Crashes resounded, roars erupted, and the voices exulted.

  “The pain!” “Ancient one!” “Yes!”

  Beth pulled an arrow back and whipped around with her bow, searching for a target. The viper hissed in anticipation, ready to spring, but she could not see anything more than vague shapes among the trees. She shifted to mage sight.

  She saw them now. The guardians were mutated irregular beasts. Their anatomy seemed to make no sense. Some had the head of a dog, others birds. Some had multiple heads, extra arms. Some were hairy or scaled or feathered. The only thing they had in common were mouths, gaping toothy mouths in their chests.

  “Come.” “Come.” “Hungry . . .” “Witch.”

  “Stop calling me witch!” She released her arrow at a guardian with the head of a three-eyed cat. The viper struck the middle eye with pleasure. It fell to the ground, shuddering.

  Yntri cried out and she saw a large beast with yellow scales hurtle off of the mountain edge, speared by his arrow. Another beast rose in front of her, but great golden blades of air cut it in two and continued into the trees, shearing off branches as they went.

  “Blood!” “EAT YOU!”

  Beth gathered her courage and fired again and again. Each arrow striking with the viper’s bite, knocking the beasts to the ground convulsing and foaming from their chest mouths. She was going to have to ask Yntri how it worked.

  She stepped forward with confidence, felling guardians until she realized with a panic that she was out of arrows. She could hear Yntri and Hilt fighting to either side, but could not see them.

  “Hilt!” she cried and a gigantic beast came out of the trees ahead. Its head was that of a spider with multiple round eyes, but it had the body of a serpent. It reared up in front of her and she knew that she wo
uldn’t be able to run from its grasp.

  But the guardian didn’t attack. It slithered around her and headed towards the commotion Hilt was causing. Beth watched it go in confusion, then noticed other guardians flowing through the forest to either side of her. None of them came her way.

  Why didn’t they attack? Was it her power? How could it work against holy beasts like these when it didn’t faze the trolls? Then it came to her. She was meant to be here. The prophet told her to come. The guardians weren’t there for her.

  She turned and saw something through the trees ahead. A stairway. She put her bow over her shoulder and walked closer.

  The stairs curved up the cliff face, each looking as if chiseled by hand. This was it. This was where the prophet intended her to go. She could feel something above calling out to her. Beth approached the bottom step.