MOLTHRU
Chapter 08: The Mote of Relda
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As the day slowly trudged on, the Mote of Relda drew near, yet no
bridge to cross could be found. As the sun sunk lower and lower in the
horizon, shadows danced all around the three companions.
‘We draw near, yet I see no bridge!’ griped Brethren,
squinting to view father than he could. The darkness was making it
harder to even spot the Mote. They came to a stop as they eyed the
length of it for as far as was possible, but their silent cries of hope
were not heeded.
‘Worry not, my dear Brethren,’ answered Harmon. ‘The day
grows late and even the sun is beginning to slumber. We must take rest
whilst it is dark. Come! We eat and sleep where we stand tonight.’
Brethren was quick to disagree.
‘I bid we do not rest here, for we are out in the open; leaving
eyes free to spy on us!’
‘I neither see nor hear of dangers coming towards us. Though,
should it comfort you some, I ask that as you sleep, you dream of
Relnadia. May the blessings of the Great Ones be with you. We will rest
here.’
They set up camp and ate a hearty meal, though small, as they now
had an extra mouth to feed. The Party ate in silence and listened to the
minutes pass them by. Tobias ate little, keeping to his word that he
would not be a burden. Harmon and Brethren ate much, however, they saved
a good deal for the ahead journey. Once their bellies were satisfied,
they each lay under a blanket of thick wool, listening to the wind
pleasantly murmur in the far off trees as they each began to nod.
Harmon was the first to fall into a deep sleep. He began to
dream, of a strange land he had never before visited, and of a strange
song floating across the air in the tongue of Olden. Again, he did not
understand the words being uttered, though he guessed they were being
spoken to him, if not about him.
Revlai receil! Péruss neer vui!
‘What say you?’ questioned Harmon. ‘I do not understand
your words! Come! Speak so I may understand you, or show your face so
that I may guess by your expression what you wish me to know!’ no
figure came forward, yet the whisper came again and again across the
winds, as it had those few times before.
Revlai receil! Péruss neer vui!
Harmon was confused. Worse yet, he was frightened. For he felt
the heavy appearance of a familiar terror which he could not yet see.
Slowly, it appeared before him, the same shadowy figure from his other
dream.
‘What would you have with me!’ shouted Harmon, drawing his
Ivy Sword, crying frantically around for his Kith to come and help him.
But no one came.
A terrifying battle cry hailed through the gloomy skies and the
shadowy figure drew its gleaming silver sword. Harmon stepped back and
faltered, landing on his back, his sword still in hand. He was shaking
all over in fear as he scuffled on his elbows away from the shadowed
figure.
You must turn back! Danger awaits you! The voice came again, only
this time, in words he could understand. The voice was not being spoken
by the shadow before him. In a moment of braveness, Harmon help his
sword aloft and cried;
‘By the order of Myron, servant to the Wise Ones, I bid you
leave me!’ The voice whispered no more but the shadow figure remained.
Harmon let out a cry as he re-played the same scene from his other
dream, as the sword bore into his abdomen, drawing life from him.
Harmon was awoken by Brethren shaking him softly. He grunted
incoherently, but was glad to be awake and for now distanced from his
terrible dream. ‘I did not wish to wake you,’ said he ‘but time
presses on all too fast. Tobias and I are ready to depart and wait only
for you now, Master Harmon.’ Harmon sat up and absorbed the morning
sun and the gentle breeze that dried the morning’s dew from his
clothes.
‘Perhaps it is just as well you did.’ Harmon answered,
grimly. ‘For I dream things that I wish would leave my memory, but
instead they replay themselves over in my mind. I fear our people may
have been right; danger and grief will await us on our journey, even I
begin to suspect.’
‘We may Harmon, we may, but as you yourself said, we shall have
The Bringers or as you shouted in your sleep, the Wise Ones, and of
course our people’s well-wishes looking over us. We need not be
worried.’ Harmon gaped but no sound came forth from his tired mouth.
He was worried at what else he had said in his sleep, for it was a habit
of his that he could not control. ‘You looked worried, to say the
least lad, your brow was furrowed from the moment you closed your eyes,
but I could not make out what troubled you. Not that it was my business
mind, for I’ve no intention of searching through your head to find
out.’
‘Aye, it was a troublesome dream I was having.’ Admitted
Harmon. ‘But I am awake now, and my heart is lifted by the light, so
let us not speak of it again on such a bright day!’
As they slowly continued to make their way towards the mote on
foot, (for the horses had grown tired of carrying both Elf and luggage)
Brethren let out a shout and threw his arms in the air with joy. ‘The
bridge is in sight!’ Harmon squinted. Even with his exceptional Elf
eyesight he could only barely see it, poking out of the mote in the near
distance. The mote was still several miles away. Elfen had disappeared
entirely out of sight and to nothing but long grass and unknown lands
surrounded them. Off to the East, a wide set of mountains could just be
seen with snow heavily decorating their peaks, all but the lower
mountains, that were covered in forest.
‘Look to the East, Brethren, there lie the Mountains of
Eldernas!’ Brethren scratched his head, for the name was familiar to
him, but no memory came to mind. ‘There lies the home of King Fithíl,
Sovereign of the First Race of our people. They are but a myth, as they
have not been seen or heard for many a generation.’ Harmon went on
talking about the long off mountains, almost to himself, for his voice
fell to a whisper and his eyes, as did his mind, wandered back to the
peaceful days. It was then Tobias spoke.
‘I should very much like to visit them, someday. Elfen is all I
have seen, thus my reason for wanting to join you on your Quest is
clear. Pray we go there some day, Brethren? When all is well again, we
shall go see the homes of our ancestors?’
‘That we will!’ piped Brethren. ‘I myself would very much
like to go there, as far off as it may be. Would you join us Harmon?’
Harmon turned to face his companions and nodded.
‘Aye, I would. But we have more important matters at hand. I am
afraid of what lies ahead and am afraid of hoping for another journey
besides this.’ His eyes clouded and he once again turned to face the
hazy mountains. ‘We must not assume that we shall return.’ The grief
in his voice seemed to shatter all hope for a moment. Brethren placed a
hand on Harmon’s shoulder.
‘Come now, speak of happier times that were and happier times
to come! Have faith, we shall complete our task alive and well.’
Harmon agreed and the trio set off, humming, singing and
whistling to themselves to keep spirits high.
Finally, they reached the Warrior’s Bridge that crossed the
Mote of Relda which then lead a dark and gloomy path directly into the
Arkan Forest. What was beyond that could not be seen.
‘The bridge does not look at all safe.’ Said Brethren,
swallowing hard at the sight of the cracked and crumbling stone bridge
before him. There were no barriers, and the bridge was of a thin width.
‘Perhaps Tobias could cross with ease,’ he went on ‘but us and the
horses may have trouble getting across at all!’
‘The horses!’ cried Harmon. ‘They escaped my mind! How are
we to get our luggage across the mote without the horses? We need them
for this, if not for riding.’ Harmon paced up and down, with Brethren,
Tobias and even Charger and Squall, watching him intently, wondering
what his next move or word may be. ‘I cannot think. Can the horses not
jump the mote? Surely we can pass our packs one by one across
ourselves?’ To Brethren and Tobias, this seemed like something of an
idea, for the mote was deep but not at all wide, by horse standards.
Nevertheless, the horses were quick to disagree and neighed in a
protesting manner.
‘I do not think the horses wish to jump across.’ Commented
Tobias, stroking Charger and Squall gently so to calm them. ‘We shall
have to find another way to get into the Forest. Perhaps the horses can
wade through the waters?’
‘If they do not wish to jump across,’ answered Harmon ‘then
they will most likely not wish to swim across either. The water is far
too deep,’ he sighed. ‘We may have to leave the horses behind and
take with us only what we need.’
This was a decision that was not taken lightly. As they unpacked
all of their luggage from the horses, they whispered a comforting word
in their ears and sent them off back to Elfen. Brethren swallowed hard
as the horses got further and further away until they were nothing more
than mere specks in the grass. Tobias could not help but shed a few
tears at the horses’ departure. Harmon just looked on blankly, barely
blinking as he grieved silently.
‘I hope they make it back safely.’ Tobias whispered. Harmon
nodded in agreement.
‘Squall and Charger were both born and reared in Elfen, they
will find their way back. Brethren, I am sure that Wesley will take
Charger in as one of his own.’
‘That I am sure of.’ Brethren replied. ‘We shall have a lot
of explaining to do once we get back. People may wonder why we let our
horses roam. I am also sure that Wesley may be angry with you for
letting Squall walk back alone, yet something tells me that he will
eventually be more understanding. Pray that when you get back you are
too old for a good hiding from him.’
‘I should hope he will be more merciful. If not then he may
aswell turn me over to Old Abbot again.’ Harmon laughed and patted the
scar on his shoulder. Come, we must get across this bridge before dark.
The Mote is wider than expected and we shall need to move slowly.’
Tobias ran across the bridge with ease carrying the small, light
pack he had brought with him. ‘The bridge is quite badly constructed,
or it is weather worn, either way move lightly and quickly or you may
cause the bridge to yield!’ he shouted across.
Brethren slowly followed, taking small footsteps, halting with
unnerved breath every time so much as a pebble fell with a plink into
the water. Eventually, he made it across and sat himself on the grass to
catch his breath. On the other side, preparing to cross, Harmon steadied
his pack on his shoulders and edged towards the bridge. By sight it
seemed feeble, as if it would crumble to the touch, but Brethren and
Tobias had crossed with no problems. They waved him across.
‘Come, Harmon! The bridge is safe!’ shouted Tobias, jumping
up and down trying to encourage his friend across. Harmon stepped
forward onto the bridge. His pack felt all too heavy now and he was
having trouble balancing.
Time seemed to stand still as Harmon stepped onto a loose piece
of rock, tumbling head first into the deep mote. The cries and shouts of
his friends were muffled to silence as Harmon’s heavy luggage pulled
him further and further down. The mote didn’t appear to have a surface
it was so deep and he was beginning to run out of air. He struggled and
tried to swim to the surface, but found he could not do so without
losing his luggage. Gathering what calm he had left, he drew his sword.
It weighed so much heavier underwater, but slowly he cut his luggage
from his back and watched for a second as it sunk into the dark deep,
out of sight forever. He then swam as quick as he could to the surface,
kicking his legs to gain speed and still clutching his sword.
‘Harmon! If I’d have known we’d need rope I would have
brought some. Quickly, take my hand and I’ll pull you out!’ cried
Brethren, holding out both hands. But Harmon did not receive them.
Instead, he grabbed onto the grassy ledge and hauled himself out.
The trio of travellers had been sitting still allowing Harmon to
dry off his clothes and salvage the small amount of luggage that had
floated back to the surface of the water for quite some time. There was
silence all round until finally, Brethren spoke.
‘Are you well?’
‘Am I not still breathing? Of course, I am as well as can
be!’ snapped Harmon, piercing his Company with a harsh glare. Tobias
gulped as Harmon seemed to throw an exceptionally angry look his way.
‘Perhaps you should change out of your wet clothing,’ Tobias
went on. ‘Wet clothes are heavy clothes as my Father always said.’
‘Your Father spawned a fool, Tobias. Are you not ashamed of
yourself? You are the blame for the troubles in Elfen! We had troubles
from Grangor, but Myron had kept us well and safe! Your foolishness is
the downfall of your people and I assure you that you are made no better
an elf by travelling with us!’ Harmon shouted back at him. Tobias
burst into tears and ran to sit under a tree away from Harmon.
‘Go easy on the boy.’ Brethren pleaded, keeping his distance
as he noticed that Harmon kept fondling the hilt of his sword. ‘He
didn’t mean to do harm, even Myron forgive him.’ Brethren trailed
off as he gazed sorrowfully at the frowning elf before him. ‘Now I
see,’ Brethren whispered. ‘Now I see why they call it The Arkan
Forest. You mustn’t let it pull you into its shadow. Think of
Relnadia, that’s what you told me, and that I am doing. Come, we must
continue our journey. I do not wish to be travelling these woods at
night, lad.’
Seconds later, Brethren found himself lying on his back, a sword
to his throat and Harmon standing over him with a look of pure hatred in
his eyes. His once soft expression had turned to a thunderous frown,
which screamed out violent and disturbing thoughts. Tobias watched from
the tree, but was too scared to run to his brother’s aid.
‘Dimina pa Myron! Dimina pa Brethren?’ Harmon laughed at his
friend lying there like a startled rabbit, but it was more of a menacing
laugh than anything. He pressed his sword against Brethren’s jugular
and knelt down. Then something seemed to hit him inside. He cried out in
pain and dropped his sword. Strange colours flashed before his eyes and
strange sounds rang inside his head. He then fell to the floor,
practically comatose. Moments later, he opened his eyes and looked
around him. His head was throbbing and his clothes were no drier.
‘You look at me as if I am an enemy.’ Said a confused Harmon
picking his sword up and placing it back in his sheath. His mind was
awash with confusion and thoughts that he did not remember. ‘I have an
odd feeling that an event occurred, yet I do not remember it. Tell me,
friend, what happened?’
‘You may well have been an enemy a moment ago,’ said
Brethren, nursing the small nick the sword had made on his neck. ‘You
tried to kill me, in fact.’ Harmon gaped and looked over at Tobias who
was still sobbing by the tree.
‘Did I hurt him?’ asked Harmon, nodding towards Tobias, who
refused to look at either of them.
‘Nay.’
‘Why does he cry?’
‘I fear it will only delay our journey should I tell you. The
grief is already heavy enough on us who remember it. I for one do not
wish to repeat in words what happened here. I shall tell you when we are
returning here, but that is some time away yet.’
‘Very well.’ Harmon said at length, ringing the excess water
from his drenched clothing. ‘Let us keep going and hope that you can
forgive whatever it was that I did.’ With that the three elves
continued walking into the darkness of the Arkan Forest.
