For the rest of his life, Lord Alaric of Shadowrock would never forget that fierce battle, so different from any other he had faced before.
That same morning, after his daughter's disappearance, he left the castle in charge of Cormac and Leander to go into the forest. It was the only place where Olivia could have taken refuge from the intense cold.
He was accompanied by about fifteen soldiers and five wizards, all on horseback and armed with swords. The plan was to split up into different groups to try to cover as much ground as possible. Just in case, he had sent another search party to the roads that connected the nearest villages, although he knew very well that he would not get any results from there.
Under a blanket of whiteness, the forest lay in a deep slumber, immersed in an eerie silence. The snow crunched under the trot of the horses, the wind howled through the trees, accompanied by the occasional solitary caw of a crow. Through the dense branches, the light filtered faintly, infusing the forest with an air of mystery.
Since that portion of the forest belonged to the Circle, no danger was to be feared. However, Alaric could not help noticing the cautiousness of the animals, which, despite the haste imposed by their riders, advanced slowly, as if fearing a presence that the human eye had not yet managed to perceive.
Following his instinct, the Count had decided to head towards Barthra's hut. Even if this decision could pose a risk and make him lose more time, he trusted in the special bond the old woman had with the forest beings, which could help them guide their search, even if Olivia wasn't there.
His clever, rebellious daughter would have thought of that already, of course, though Alaric was hopeful that she hadn't wandered far without first saying goodbye to the woman she'd treated all her life like a grandmother.
That was what the Count was ruminating on, when a group of playful and curious fairies approached the party.
At first they ignored them, but soon the little beings began to play mischief. They fluttered around in circles, tugged at the animals' manes, buzzed near their ears and rested their tiny feet on their muzzles. The horses then whinnied and shook their heads, trying to drive them away as if they were annoying flies.
That scene didn't fit at all. It was still a couple of weeks before the snow began to melt. They should be sleeping, he thought curiously, when, suddenly, the fairies increased the speed of their flight until they ended up spinning in frantic circles like a swarm of angry bees. They had done nothing to disturb them, although one of the accompanying wizards tried to catch one. Still, Alaric was doubtful. It had not seemed to him reason enough for them to react that way.
Without warning, mounds of snow began to rise and take strange shapes that gradually molded into a score of snowmen who rushed straight at them with the unmistakable intention of making an offensive. The soldiers quickly unsheathed their swords and, with a few blows, added to the spells of the wizards, managed to disintegrate the walking figures.But they had no time to take a breath because the earth beneath them began to shake violently. The horses reared up on two legs and some of the men fell to the ground. Great roots erupted from the soil and grabbed horses and humans by their limbs, shaking them like bunches of grapes about to be devoured. The first to be wrapped from head to toe were the wizards, who, without their free hands, could not invoke the seals.
The Count and a few other soldiers who were still standing managed to cut some roots that almost caught them by the feet, but without any explanation they were immediately attacked by what seemed to be whirlwinds of fire that had appeared out of nowhere and started to push them back. Some of the stunned remaining men were catapulted backwards or had to scramble on the ground to put out the fire that had begun to burn in their clothes.
In the midst of the screams, the tremors and the relentless attack, the Count took refuge behind a huge rock among the trees, where the only wizards who had escaped in time had coincidentally taken refuge.
“Why don't you defend yourself?” shouted the Count in outrage.
“My Lord...” the wizard was shaking from head to toe. “Elementals are immune to our magic!”
“How is that possible?”
“It's always been like that! It's impossible to use the Codes against them!”
“And I'm hearing about this just now!?”
“Never in the history of our kingdom have they ever attacked any creature! There was nothing to worry about! They're supposed to be peaceful!”
“Oh, is that so!?” replied his master sarcastically.
Behind his back, the Count felt something crawling through the snow, and when he intended to peek over the rock he found that the trees around him had begun to shift into a tight circle.
Defeated, Alaric threw his sword to the ground. Then he knelt down and raised both hands in surrender. With that gesture he managed to make the whirlwinds die down and the ground stop shaking, but the roots still enveloped them both from head to toe and they ended up completely immobilized.
Four days. Four days lasted their inexplicable imprisonment, although as the hours passed some suspicions were taking shape in his head. It was as if the Elementals had taken them hostage awaiting for some payment in exchange for their ransom.
Still, despite the attack, once captured and knowing that the men could not defend themselves, the magical beings returned to their usual behavior, although they showed no signs of wanting to free them.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The salamanders, besides patrolling the surroundings, lit a fire to protect them from the cold. The gnomes took care of gathering and caring for their horses, while the dryads fed the warriors with roots, mushrooms and nuts that had been left stored in hollows of trees. The undines healed their wounds and made them drink water from small bowls made from bark.
As for the sylphs, and the same fairies that had started it all, they danced around their captives, creating a mystical and delicate music, as if it were a kind of artistic performance, especially designed with the innocent intention of making that never-ending wait more bearable.
On the second day, Cormac, unsettled by the lack of news from his master, arrived on the scene with another small group of soldiers. Upon encountering the disconcerting scene, they tried to rescue the prisoners, but ended up being captured by the same efficient methods.It was Leander who finally had the courage to approach, accompanied by some trembling servants, who carried in their hands a large offering of delicacies especially prepared for the Elementals. The little beings were grateful but did not pay attention to the words of the wizard, who was trying to mediate with them, although they forgave him from being captured nevertheless.
Finally, at the end of the fourth day, the hostages were released and the Elementals retreated into the forest, without providing a single clue as to the real reason why they had taken them prisoner in the first place.
With their spirits low, the soldiers retreated to the castle to regain their strength and to resume the excursion. The next morning, however, despite Cormac's protests, this time the Count decided to set out alone on his horse. He would not go too far though, he assured him.
He retraced the same path as the first day, only this time no elemental emerged from the trees to stop him and so he made it to Barthra's hut without any trouble.
The healer saw him approaching through the window and went out to greet him, as she had done so many times since he was a child escaping from his father's abuse, only now the boy had become a man desperate to protect his daughter.
“Good morning, Your Excellency,” she greeted him with a slight bow of her head.
“Barthra...” this time Alaric did not come closer to give her a hug, but the old woman was not affected by that. “Have you seen her?”
“Who, my Lord?”
The Count sighed.
“Then... she is here.”
“There is no one here but me,” she waved her hand to invite him in. “You may come in if you like.”
He did not move.
“So she was here...” he put a hand to his forehead. “I don't quite know what you did, but it sure violates some of the laws that govern the Circle.”
“I don't know what you mean, Your Grace,” she replied without losing her cool.
“The Elementals.”
“Ah, yes! I thought I had heard something. As if they were throwing a party. Very strange... for winter, of course. Those rascals come to steal my mead from time to time, and I'm sure it must have driven them mad.”
“It was you, Barthra! If you ever cared for me, please, do not be dishonest now.”
“Truly, My Lord. Do you really think an old weakling like me has power over those ancient creatures? If a human could control them, he would rise empires.
Alaric's lips twisted into a cynical smile.
“In the end, you are just like Eldrin,” he said.
Barthra's eyes darkened.
“Do not dare compare me to that scheming wizard. I have done nothing...”
“Just tell the truth then, please, tell me the truth! Do not force me to...”
Alaric felt his throat tighten. In less than a week, he was losing everything he held dearest.
“Why not come in? I will prepare a special tea to calm your nerves,” she approached the door, but Alaric did not follow.
“If you come between my daughter and me, Barthra, I will never forgive you.”
Barthra's voice grew stern.
“You demand the truth from me when you have taken away that poor girl's chance to...”
“Have you told her then?” he asked, terrified.
“I have not betrayed you, Mi Lord.”
“Yes... you have.”
“Then... you can take me to the dungeon,” the old woman extended her hands.
Alaric ignored her gesture.
"Of all people, I thought you understood why I did what I did."
"Of course I understand, but fear has led you to make wrong decisions. If you had trusted her more instead of..."
"Stop! Do not continue! She's my daughter! While you are nothing to her! You have no right! All you had to do was keeping her safe until I could reach her!" The Count's voice broke, and his eyes grew moist. "I didn't even have a chance to talk to her... I try to remember what was the last thing I said to her... and I can't... I can't... And you, Barthra, took that away from me!"
Barthra pressed her lips together and sighed of resignation. Then she lowered her head.
"You're right, I've gone too far. Forgive me. I'm nothing more than a pathetic old woman leading a solitary life in the forest."
Alaric took a few minutes to regain his composure, and when he finally spoke, he did so as the Count of Shadowrock.
"For your past services, I will spare your life and I will not take away your freedom. However, I forbid you from approaching the castle from now on, and before my daughter returns, you must leave this hut and never ever return. Consider yourself expelled from the Circle of Truce."
Barthra continued to keep her head down.
"I will obey your decision. Before spring arrives, I will be gone."
The Count turned around to begin his return. Barthra finally raised her head and followed him.
"My Lord..."
About to ride his horse, he stopped, wishing with all his heart that she had reconsidered.
"Before we say our last goodbye... Let me recite an old song from my village that was sung to wish travelers good luck. Perhaps you remember it. When you were a child, I sang it to you every time your father took you on his long journeys."
The Count nodded, closing his eyes.
Barthra took a deep breath and began to repeat the verses she had already recited to Olivia and Silas two days before they began their journey through the Whispering Forest:
Across far lands,
and endless skies,
fortune favors
those who try.
Through oceans deep
and mountains high,
for those who seek
the stars will shine.
The journey ahead
is where you belong.
When facing fear,
embrace your hopes.
With joy in your heart,
and a song on your lips,
may your courage endure,
with each passing eclipse.
And where the unknown lies,
amid devious trails,
may kindness be your guide
as you continue
sailing away.
When the old woman finished, the Count slowly opened his eyes.
"Goodbye, Barthra."
"Farewell, My Lord."