Chapter II - A City in the South

Chapter II

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A City in the South

 

Seldom had the Raenoes ever accepted foreigners to their halls. It was like as not that those seeking safety would find themselves the furthest from it at the gates of Crys. Yet towards that city, regardless of his own danger, the man Dunar made his way. For he knew quite well that the hearts of the Raenoes were well given to children, but to men they held far less trust. In this world there was no people he would more readily give his trust to raise the boy Jaquen. Still, it was the Queen’s solemn wish to have Dunar as the boy’s mentor.

After Dunar passed through the peaks of Amoss and Kith, his path ran from east to south and then west to south as he worked his way through the Dark wood. The trees themselves were made to prohibit such works as man may make to come against a city, and there were also great creatures that lived among them as to make all the appearance of a forest of darkness. But it was only as the Raenoes wished it for themselves. As a wanderer Dunar had actually quite by chance found the right paths through the forest, and he did well never to forget them. For as any wanderer knows, when need presses you, the darkest paths are your greatest friends, as pursuers seek much lighter less dangerous paths first before seeking a dark road.

Through such roads Dunar came to the North Gate of the Raenoes. Yet it was already known far before he came there that he was coming. Even as the Dark Wood was tended by the Raenoes, it was the forest that was also in league with the people in Crys and did what they would to help that people. Thus word reached the people under the trees that a wanderer and a child were coming out of Acrea to seek shelter. That even as this wanderer traveled he held aloft a sign of peace. Even leagues outside the city.

With that knowledge the council met in the Great Hall at the center of the city. Under the great roof of stone a great debate was held in heated words. For to many of those long lived in the city, newcomers always spoke of dangers unforeseen. That to take in an outsider was to take in some of the troubles of the world and thus be in danger of being exposed to and drawn into those troubles as well.

There were others though that saw the plight as it were and felt an opportunity was there to make a connection between the men and the Raenoe people. They had over many years taken in families of desperate times under oath never to leave, to the point where the city of Crys was now mixed between the two cultures, so why would it be wrong to take in this babe and man?

That point once again brought before the council sparked a flurry of debate which always resulted in one thing: talk of leaving the Dark Wood to the men families still in Crys. It was at this time that an elder of the Raenoe order stood up, his name being Olf, and he spoke of great valor from the men over time when things did not turn out easy. Men held their purpose, and they are in this world same as the Raenoes are, and that no more talk of leaving should be held for now. It was completely unwise to think of at a moment of this time.

Over divided council the two sides went at each other for hours. Ever Dunar drew nearer and the answer still had not yet come to if he should be welcomed or turned away. It was not until the fourth hour of the next day that the council was decided. Even though the decision was made in a group of rather unagreeable company. Thus there were those that went out to the North gate to meet the two, and there were others that went home amidst their grumblings about dark times.

Pursued by darkness Dunar came out of the Dark Wood and to the North Gate of Crys, as the Raenoes had commanded the forest to give way to the man’s road. The great creatures that had dogged Dunar’s steps now turned away and sought other prey. Yet the man himself was still alive, but on his feet he was fatigued unto death. Even still, the baby in his arms lived on, perhaps a little dirty, but it was strong and healthy even after such a journey. The two were welcomed first by Olf, and then by others.

Dunar first saw to the keeping of Jaquen, and when he was well satisfied with it, he collapsed upon a bed that was provided him. Thus away north, as war continued, either for good or ill, these two no longer held part in it. The Queen, alive for what Dunar knew, could now be content, as Dunar had brought the child to safety. Even if all the mountains emptied of Arrackmen and came to storm the Dark Wood, the child would still be safe.

 

There were those that said the time would not pass quick enough until the boy was of age, or until the boy would be returned to Acrea. Yet the time did pass, and it did so much quicker than was expected, for the debate was soon forgotten. Olf brought the truth out of Dunar in the ensuing weeks, and it was after knowing the full tale that the entire council tentatively agreed to keep the child on. Thus the two were given the ability to go where they would, as one of those living in Crys would.

Soon after being granted such freedom there was a certain child found in the streams outside the city, away south. The hunting parties had found him on their fishing trip and now brought the boy back to the city. The council did not meet, nor did they argue about keeping him. There was only one concern. With the child there was a wolf pup, which looked to be the same age as the baby boy. Both had been found in the same basket floating among the wide river and there were some in the council that took it as a sign that the child was nothing ordinary.

There are scholars that would debate later as to the wisdom of what happened to this child, but all agree it was strange circumstances that brought both the child Jaquen and this boy with the wolf together. Strange luck some would call it. But among all there was only Dunar as knew the ways of a wolf and of a child together, and he suspected the same things as the council, that this child was somehow special. So it was that both of these children were given to Dunar to raise as his own for the time he was there. Both children were of the same age, so it was further agreed, among laughs and grins, that there would not be too much more trouble with two as it would be with one. Dunar only smiled back and reminded the men that dogs usually wander if there are two, but with one there is more loyalty. As Dunar was now the father of this stranger it was decided immediately that the boys name would be Drak. Thus Jaquen and Drak became a well-treasured two that day, and as the years went by they became the greatest of brothers as ever could be told of in a tale.

The wolf-pup also became a close member of such family. But there was a strange character to the pup: it did not age as a normal pup should. It closely mirrored Drak’s own age, and even when Drak was five, the age of when a wolf would be fully grown, the pup was still quite young and ate very little meat. Dunar was of course suspicious at first, and after consulting Olf they both agreed that it was well known that Drak was of foreign blood, and thus whatever custom was with the wolf would probably do no harm. After all, Dunar was raising them for the better. Thus it was settled in Dunar’s mind that the wolf was foreign and should be treated no different than a normal dog.

 

Jaquen and Drak were at last given their own freedom to roam at the traditional age of ten. No ceremony was in this tradition, but there were rules to it. Olf took special care of this point, as he knew it best, and as he was also especially fond of the two. He set out all of the rules of where to go and where not to go.

At the age of ten, the two were not to go any further south than the other side of the bridge, save with Dunar’s permission and or accompaniment. They were also to go no further north than the gate. East and West were set by its own bounds in the city. An old crumbling wall stood as a testament to olden days when such things were necessary, and past these were the endless trees. On the west side of the city, the river curved by it, forming a fairly good-sized peninsula where the city extended. Thus a fair part of the city was surrounded on three sides by water, where as much of the other could either boast of a little water, or none at all. The two boys soon found this out on their own, and much within the first day as soon as the rule-explaining was over.

As the exploring days wore on the two found the city to be neither complex nor extremely interesting. All the adventure lay beyond the walls of Crys, and the two would spend most of their time near the south gate, or in the river to the left of the bridge. The various farmers would leave to tend their fields under the trees in the morning, and they would return at night. But the greatest coming and going were the hunting and fishing parties. Jaquen and Drak were always there for their starting and coming back.

As soon as Winter’s Ice gave way there would be hunting parties put together out of the finest bowmen to venture south and bring back game for Crys. Winter’s were always long, but Spring and Summer were also fairly long Still, out of the four seasons, the longest was always Summer, and a bit behind it was Winter. So it was an important happening when the hunters and fishermen came and went, as they brought food back for the village. Still, they weren’t nearly as busy during Spring and Summer as they were during the Fall.

The very first time Jaquen could remember seeing the great hunters return he helped put up all that meat. Great stores of it underneath the city, which were called smoke-halls. All the meat would be separated into different parts and then salted or hung up in the smoke hall. The Raenoes knew a great deal of everything, and to Jaquen’s knowledge there’d never been a time when meat was gone bad, or that a family had taken down with a sickness from the food. But ever since that first time he’d first helped put up the great stores of food underneath the city, he wished he could go out on the hunting trips. Still, year after year until the tenth, Jaquen and Drak had to content themselves merely with helping at the end of it all.

In the Fall of his tenth year Dunar had become well used to having the two of them. He’d been a father before, but through the first few years, even though he loved them both and showed it well, underneath he was pained that someone so low as him would be raising someone so high as the young prince. The thought passed, and generally Dunar was instilled with the importance of the task and took it to heart. It made him love the child that much more.

So in Jaquen and Drak’s tenth year, in the Spring, he began instructing the two in using the bow, and other methods of hunting. Dunar had taken much time learning the Raenoe tricks of hunting, and so added to the learning of the two as Wanderers out of the entire world are known to be the best hunters. Jaquen and Drak took to their lessons quickly, as they knew there was only one place it could lead. As the Summer season went by and their training became greater, the two could only wish that the season of hunting would start.

At last the day came when Dunar was ready. Jaquen and Drak were by their campfire in the morning, full knowing that the hunting parties were all going out that day. The fishermen were also going out, but they would be going the next morning and by a different route as always so as not to disturb the hunting parties. All was ready for a full day of travel to where the men would bed before the hunt. Dunar was gone early however so it was up to Jaquen and Drak to make their horses ready for the trip.

Their morning meal consisted of a very light breading, which would serve as the entire days’ ration, and even considering it’s type and quantity, they would not be contented with a slow pace. But even after they were done, which felt to be too long to be counted as time, they looked about for something else to preoccupy them. The sky was clear, indeed very clear for a day in the fall. But that was good sign for a day to hunt. Before Dunar had left the camp Jaquen could hear grumbling of how the hunt was now a day late, one could not forgive being late for a hunt.

“Why was Dunar in such a hurry to leave camp this morning?” Drak asked as they looked in vain for something to do.

Jaquen shrugged back, “He doesn’t like being late for things. I expect he’s speaking with the Raenoe guides as to why they chose to leave today as apposed to yesterday.”

Drak shook his head, “As if tomorrow will be any different from today.”

Jaquen grinned, “If that were to be, Dunar would not have worried over it. Something tells me though that he knows a wind of change when it comes.”

Drak grunted, then spotted their bows. He looked back with a wide smile, “Want to do some shooting before we go?”

Jaquen stood and walked over to the bows, picked one up, strung it and shot two arrows into a knot of a tree thirty feet away. Drak sighed, “I guess not.”

Jaquen looked down at Drak, “I think we both have had enough practice for this journey.”

The day dragged on until midmorning; well after the time when the party should have left. Jaquen had taken up a book Dunar had given him to read and was sitting high up in a tree. Drak was on the ground asleep. The horses were still tied to their tree, and all were waiting expectantly for Dunar to take the path to their camp.

Their camp was directly west of the Raenoe city, but it did not lay outside it. There was a certain section of Crys dedicated to wanderers that were well known to the Raenoe council. It was a wooded and secluded spot, almost like a wood garden of the city. Its border was the river that ran around three sides of the city, and the garden took up almost a third of Crys. For this, Dunar was very grateful, and he readily let others take up abode in Crys proper, subjecting the prince to an upbringing seen as perhaps a bit more harsh.

As Jaquen had known no different, he was fond of the outdoor life, and grew into it very well. It seemed that Drak had no cares one way or the other of it, but rathered they stay underneath trees or a roof, as he had no fondness of open areas. But their camp was not far away from Crys. The path was no more than a hundred yards away from the main road, and one could easily see anyone coming down the path to their camp. Still, Jaquen stayed up in his tree, and felt the most comfortable in that high spot.

The book in which he was reading spoke of the raids of Acrea. It spoke of times of fell deeds, and how the valley Acrea was decimated by the raids of the Arrackmen. His mind was filled with the history of his people, to the point where it could be said that he knew more of it than any other royalty that was. But there was one thing that Jaquen did not know as of yet, that he was royalty. This fact was one thing Dunar had taken care not to tell Jaquen yet. Olf had at first questioned it, but after Dunar’s reasons were explained Olf could only caution Dunar in his decision. Jaquen didn’t ask why he was made to read all such things, he preferred to know so much, and his only difference with Dunar was his requests to know more about the Raenoe’s, as Jaquen considered Crys to be his own city more than Acrea.

It was in the Fifth Chapter, of the Chronicles of the Red Knight that Jaquen found his interest peaked. The Red Knight, it seems, contacted the Raenoes and won their trust. The Raenoe warriors came out of their forests and defeated the Arrackman clan of Arkin in the Battle of the White Plains, just before the City of Main in Acrea. Then the Raenoe’s retired and never fought for the Acrean people again, nor did the Red Knight continue his courtship of their might. It was this Chapter that Jaquen was reading again now. He could recite the battle move by move, and at one time did before the council, at the celebration of Eves.

On his eighth birthday he was given the task to present a ballad before the people, at the Celebration of Eves. Jaquen chose the Battle of the White Plains. The Raenoe people listened with rapt attention. Yet Dunar looked to those of the congregation whom he knew remembered that day. Among such warriors of old, he saw pained expressions and looks of deep sorrow. At the end of the presentation Jaquen was thrice applauded for such a moving tale, and the warriors that had fought that day stepped forward and offered their own tokens of congratulations and appreciation for such a memory. Great valor had been done that day, they said, but great valor of such a kind a fear will not be seen again. There was a pause among them and then, We all thank you for such a remembrance of that battle in which we took part. Do not forget such valor and hero’s when you yourself fulfill your part in this story.

Jaquen smiled as he remembered that day. Dunar did not reprimand him for his boldness as he normally would have, but told him quite directly not to ever forget what just happened. And he never did.

 

“Are you both quite ready to go now?”

Jaquen looked down quite suddenly, knife out as he had been taught. There on the ground stood Dunar with his blade on Drak’s neck. Jaquen closed his book and dropped to the ground.

“I just lost my friend didn’t I?”

“No, you lost your own life,” Dunar said without emotion. “If I’m standing here with blade out and on your friend you can believe that I either need to speak with you at the potential cost of your friend, or you won’t be around to see if I need to speak with you or not. Why did you not watch?”

Jaquen hung his head, “I didn’t think to watch for you as a wanderer. I only watched the path.”

“Remember then,” Dunar said as he resheathed his sword, “your enemies won’t approach you from the path. Remember also that when you hunt tomorrow, there are no paths to watch.”

Drak yawned enough for Dunar to take notice. When Dunar looked down he saw Drak’s throwing knife at the ready. Dunar nodded with approval, “You’re learning.”

He walked away and untied his horse, signaling the other two to do the same.  Jaquen and Drak looked at each other, grinned and then jumped up on their horses, wheeled them about and rode behind Dunar as he led his horse out towards the main road.

The trees on either side of the path served as a beautiful guide to home or away from it. Each magnificent tree stood as a sentinel, guarding the three of them from anyone except themselves. It was said that the trees would listen if a Raenoe commanded it to do something, but such a thought could not be seen if it were true. The Raenoes had no need to be violent, and even when hunting they did not need to use such a power to their gain. Jaquen always thought it would be a sight to see though, and secretly wished they would just to show that they still could.

“I spoke with Olf this morning.”

Drak looked at Jaquen sharply.

“What did he say,” Jaquen asked quietly.

“He said to give you this,” Dunar tossed something over his shoulder.

Jaquen caught it out of the air and brought it down to where he could look at it in his lap. It was a key. Jaquen looked up at Dunar who was still walking quietly onward.

“He said to tell you that should help the next time you want to get into the cellars of the city.”

Drak looked at Jaquen with a pained expression. Jaquen tried to suppress as smile as he looked back. Dunar looked back at both of them. The two of them stiffly snapped and looked back at him without expression. Then Dunar grinned a great wide grin. They both smiled back.

“There are very few that can actually outdo a Raenoe in his own city. But I think you both did very well at doing this. Olf said specifically that he did not know you two were in there until after you’d already gone. You’re learning.”

When they came to the main road there were already groups of hunters moving towards the south gates. Among the groups were the carts that would take up position behind the riders. The carts were for the meat as they killed it. The cart drivers would prepare all the game caught before the trip home and would then pile it in. It was simple, but the preparation was only for the trip home and was no substitute for what they did to the meat when they got it back to Crys. There simply wasn’t enough time to do such things out in the field with so much game to prepare. Jaquen guessed the number of hunters to be well over 120. Or a good six score and three. At the time that the hunters would be well into their duty, the wagon-drivers would be receiving game at quite a pace.

All this Jaquen had gathered over the course of time. Patience was a tool well-used if one understood how to use it, and an abundance of information was its profit. This Jaquen understood quickly even when he was young and would learn this and that bit from people as he went about on small errands for Dunar. The old and wise would seek younger ears (but not very young) to spin their tales into and create a reverence for the older. Even though there were those that listened, Jaquen was among them the most, and most of the time uninvited.

Atop his horse Jaquen could see the crowd that had gathered at the southern bridge, not a great many people, but still a good number in any one place as there weren’t many reasons for gathering. There was Old Olf sitting on his mushroom shaped stool, leaning heavily on his cane despite the fact that he was sitting. Beside him was a tall man that had always disliked the pair of them, but knew Dunar exceedingly well and the two would find each other behind a mug or ten easily. Jaquen looked over at Drak, who was wearing a dark expression.

Out of the two the tall man liked Drak least of all; this owing to the fact that his daughter and Drak spent much of their time together.  Jaquen could not place why the man disliked them both so much, but he’d decided long ago to avoid the man anyway.

“Ah…” Drak said with a smile.

Jaquen looked over to him, “Is she here?”

Drak looked at Jaquen with a red face, “Yes.”

Jaquen grinned widely, “I’ll do what I can to make a bit of a distraction for you. You know her father will be watching you two closely. Just don’t be gone too long.”

Drak nodded and turned away.

Jaquen looked over and waved to someone in the crowd, no one in particular, but it was in the general direction of where Drak was looking. Down on the ground came a man with a weed in his mouth. He was a shorter type of man, more of a farmer on the outside, but still, another good friend of Dunar’s and Jaquen liked him. His name was Harn.

He stroked Jaquen’s horse and looked up at the boy, “Where you two masters headed off to?”

“We’re hunting with Dunar this season.”

“No…” He said giving the two a wink, “Where you two headed off to right now. I know the sparkle of a boys thinking up here.” He tapped his head and then pulled a weed out of his mouth. “It takes a powerful much to take his eyes off of his daughter Selace.” Harn pointed to the man standing beside Olf with his weed. Then he smiled, “Perhaps as a friend I might be able to help a bit.”

Jaquen smiled, “I think we two can manage.”

Harn seemed to scratch his wrist while holding it up to the light through the trees. Then he smiled and produced a pin in his hand. Before Jaquen could react Harn had slapped it on the rear of his mount.

Jaquen’s horse bucked wildly and ran forward towards the bridge. Jaquen held on as best he could, struggling to keep on top of the horse. A wagon pulled up in front of the bridge and there was a shout. Jaquen laughed and swerved around it, catching an apple off the cart as he passed. As he came onto the bridge he brought the horse to a halt and turned in his saddle, with a wide grin on his face he looked back at all the commotion. Taking a bite out of his apple he smiled even wider, letting the taste of fall and coming adventure seep into him.

A rider swept past Jaquen and came to Olf. Jaquen let his smile down, and found himself feeling quite foolish for riding straight into trouble. The rider was supposed to reach the hunting grounds and prepare it for them, and his return was a big deal. His little joke was nothing funny now and he tossed the apple into the river.

The rider dismounted quickly and began to hurriedly talk with Dunar, Olf, and the tall man beside Olf. Jaquen watched the expressions closely. The rider seemed over anxious about something, and a great deal tired, Olf seemed intent on what was said, and the man beside him seemed a bit put out. Dunar looked off into the distance as he normally did when he was thinking hard about something. Some wishful look it seemed, but nonetheless Dunar was tied here. It was times when he got this look that Jaquen wondered a great deal what it was the Dunar did before he was put into the charge of Jaquen.

Jaquen looked around in the crowd for Drak, and found him easily on the outside of everyone with Selace. Jaquen had to grin at him then, their plan had worked as their plans normally did. Harn came up to Jaquen’s horse and looked up at Jaquen.

“Sorry lad,” Harn said easily, “but it seems as if there’s a bit of trouble. None caused by you though so don’t worry too hard about it. Seems though there’s a wee bit o’ bad luck running up from the south and it’s scarin’ all the game to blazes. So, it’s our turn to be waitin’ for a decent shot at something we can’t hunt.”

“What do you mean?”

Harn turned around to Jaquen when they came back to the right side of the bridge. His eyes turned mysterious, and lost the normal light nature that they had, “I mean the south is stirring. We’ve been hunting all this time, and now the south seems to be wanting something or other in payment. They’re a fierce kind, not to be taken lightly. But they’re a bit witless.” He said tapping his head.

“What does that mean for the hunt? What are we going to do for food?”

“I have a fancy that we’ll be just fine for food. I just hope that what comes isn’t too particularly bad. Them in the south doesn’t just show up and demand something, they bring up plenty of reason to want to give what they demand.”

“Will I be able to see it?”

Harn laughed and punched him on the shoulder, “I don’t think so young master. Someone as important as you to all of us, I think you’ll find things much better in the Library, or the Meeting Hall. Something of that nature where dark things won’t be in your mind the rest of your born days.”

Jaquen frowned. The Library. Where he spent most of his time anyway if he wasn’t practicing how to fight. He wondered if he’d ever fight besides practice, but then he figured Harn was right. He was made for something a bit more important than the average person. A prince was no common thing, and Jaquen liked the prospect well enough. He just wished he could see what the other men saw in rare times such as this.

Harn patted him on the shoulder, “I’m sure that when you get to where you’re goin’ later on, you’ll find plenty of fightin’ to do that you’ll wish you never had to do. Such is the life of princes I hear. Especially of Acrea.”

“I find the prospect suits me fine. I hear Acrea is a bountiful land, and plenty good to live in.”

“Aye, tis…cept people get into a settled down feeling a lot easier than most folks. That valley land is so bountiful that a couple years normal life without a good fight just sours the land right up until the only talk is about what is best for the lords, instead of the people. Can’t say as I’d give this place up for what you have up there.”

“I can’t say as I have a choice. But I think I’ll enjoy it well enough when I get there,” Jaquen said with a smile. “It’ll be too bad when people around here won’t be there with me.”

“Such is life.”

Dunar came up to Jaquen and Harn and motioned for Harn to go. Harn waved at Jaquen and departed easily. Dunar looked up at Jaquen curiously on the horse, “It seems that there’ll be some trouble here. I don’t know what they want but it seems that the entire southern people is coming to see us this afternoon. I want you and Drak to go back to the Library and stay there, it’s the safest place I know, and it’s also a place full of useful weapons in case you need one.”

Jaquen smiled, he couldn’t help it, “In case I need one. There’s a lot of them coming this time isn’t there.”

“The rider said our outpost men are already coming in. It’s obvious that they will be overwhelmed and will have to be rebuilt. We’re in no place to defend here, but I know that the secrets of the Raenoe’s are good enough to destroy any army. I’m just worried about the prince I was supposed to protect.”

Jaquen nodded, “I’ll be fine. When can I come be with you here?”

“When the fighting is over. You’ll know when that is,” Dunar turned and whistled. Men turned to him and he began organizing them immediately for a defense. Drak and Selace came out of the movement quickly and stood next to Jaquen’s horse.

“What are we supposed to do?” Drak asked, still holding Selace’s hand.

“We’re to go to the Library and stay there until the fighting is over.”

“Fighting?” Drak said excitedly.

“I’m sure we can bring Selace,” Jaquen said with a grin. “Just make sure her father knows that she’s going home or up the road towards safety or something.”

Selace smiled, “Always a good companion for a good cause aren’t you?”

Jaquen saluted casually to her, “Always madam. Someday I hope to have someone be the same to me. Until then I work for good.” Dunar signaled to Jaquen and jerked his thumb up the hill. Jaquen nodded and looked back to Drak and Selace, “Well, get a move on. Dunar seems to think we need to go now.”

“How close are they?” Drak said with excitement building up.

“I’d say close enough.”

Jaquen wheeled his horse back into the path and rode up to Olf and the tall man, “Sir Gerald and my dear Olf,” Jaquen said with a great exaggeration with his arm. “I come to tell you that your daughter Selace is in good company and will be going to safety.”

The tall man beside Olf, named Gerald, clenched his teeth, “Thank you.”

Olf let a small smile pass across his Raenoe face, “This is well appreciated young master Jaquen. But I do believe that you’d better get along to safety too. I’m sorry that you couldn’t partake in the hunt today. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day for it.”

“Perhaps,” Jaquen said still smiling, “but until tomorrow I hope that today does not see us at an end.”

Olf nodded and waved him on.

Jaquen sped up the hill and brought his horse to the stables a little ways down from the library. The city was in a hurry now. All the people were coming out of anywhere to prepare for a battle. Although Jaquen wondered if there was really to be one. It seemed the men down at the bridge were far too relaxed for such a force to be coming so close and so soon. There was no defenses for the city save for what the Raenoe’s could conjure up out of nature. The thought was passive though and the people continued to prepare the city for a different sort of afternoon.

Coming up beside Drak in the stables he grinned down at the two as they stabled their horse.

“Nice bit of work.”

“I would say so,” Drak said as he threw Jaquen a rope. “Fooled him just fine. Gerald didn’t even see us pass. Of course, if he did,” He said smiling over at Selace, “I’d say that he wouldn’t be on good terms with any of us for quite some time.”

Selace stood up, mocking indignance, “How else do you ride on a horse with someone else? I suppose I should’ve hung onto the blanket?”

Jaquen looped the rope quickly and brushed down his black horse. Rubbing its nose and filling its trough with oats he walked to door and into the street. Wagons were rolling down the hill steadily, and being overturned here and there in the city so that archers could stand at the ready and swordsmen would have a place to fall back to. The people were not panicked though, it was simply something that happened every so often.

Jaquen remembered the first time this happened when he was six. He was terrified, but Dunar took him back into the woods of the north and they sat watching as a black spot in the woods bled towards the river. It met the river and tried to get across the bridge, but it faltered and at last was thrown back. The last time it had happened there was a light that had shone suddenly towards the south and then all the black had vanished into the underbrush. Jaquen had wondered about it since then, but since no one else had taken great notice of it it had quickly gone out of his mind.

“Well, I guess we should get to the Library,” Drak said.

Jaquen let his hand slide off of the archway and sighed, “I wish I could be a part of the fighting. Every time the Shadices come up from the south things get a little more magical. We only get to see it from far off.”

Drak shrugged and walked off towards the library, “Like Dunar says, I’m sure we’ll see plenty of fighting as life wears on, you are a prince of Acrea after all. Things are bound to happen.”

Jaquen sighed again and followed after the two.

Drak had asked him a few times why he didn’t get a girl like he had. Jaquen had always thought about it, but it never seemed like a good thing to do considering what he had to do. Dunar had assured him he was thinking right and that any woman he became interested in would be in the way politically when he became King. The more Jaquen became engrossed with the history of his land he realized the truth in this and simply never found a girl in Crys that suited him. There were plenty though.

If he wanted to live in Crys he could readily come by everything he’d need in life there. He knew of at least three girls that he had befriended during his stay there, but had never really enjoyed their company past when he was young and they would be considered playmates. Now that he was older he would see them, a few times on the street, and during the holidays; but he would not make a point to visit them. They would always go about in a group though, and that puzzled Jaquen when every time he saw them they would be in the same threesome group. He finally put it away from his mind as something women did. But he felt some sort of comfort in those three even if nothing else, sort of like if his own kingship were to fall through he could still count on a life in Crys.

Dunar had asked him two years ago if he had wanted to learn a trade of some kind. Jaquen had thought of this and settled on what Dunar did, simply because of the adventures that seemed to lurk behind the eyes of what he considered his father. He wanted to be a wanderer. When he had said this Dunar’s face lit up, as if he had wished for this his entire life. But it was honestly what Jaquen wanted, and his passion for the unknown was like a smithy’s passion for twisting a piece of hot metal. It didn’t matter if he woke up to it every morning. He would readily embrace it.

Jaquen shook his head. There were so many little things he could think about but this time was a time of battle, and he should act differently in it. The library rose up above them as a phantom among the forest trees. It was very ornate with woodwork and masonry, but it held altogether a different style from the rest of the city, which was quite plain where men had built their homes. The tree limbs around the building had been tended quite carefully so that in time it looked as if the forest had grown into the library, reclaiming it for its own. But it was really a magical building, and inside it held such a wealth of knowledge that each time Jaquen stepped inside it was like entering such possibilities.

This time though, all was dark inside. Everyone was gone. The wooden shelves were closed and locked so that if anyone came in and battled, nothing would be destroyed accidentally. It struck Jaquen at this time how when the Raenoe’s battled outside the city, or even in it, it was more just another thing that had to happen. Like putting on your boots in the morning, or milking a cow, it was just something that had to happen every so often and they were ready for it when it did. Something told Jaquen though that this battle was different.

“Shall we go up higher, where we can see things happen?” Drak asked.

Jaquen looked at him and then over his shoulder back at the doors of the library. He suddenly wished he was out with Dunar very much. He felt a strong wave over him that something very large was going to happen, but he could do nothing about it. He looked at the floor trying to control his feelings, “Yes,” he said finally, “that would probably be best.” Then lightening a bit he smiled, “That way if the Shadices break through to here we can see them coming.”

Selace smiled back, “There you go again. Always the one to step up to a fight when it presents itself.”

Jaquen bowed, “I may not be looking for a fight, but when it comes I won’t be one to run from it. Off to upstairs then, I suppose we’ll have to wait for some time before the fighting starts.”

Horns sounded very loud in the distance. It was a very urgent sounding, and Jaquen’s eyes went wide. Drak let go of Selace’s hand and raced upstairs. Jaquen passed Selace as well and ran after Drak. Indignantly Selace followed after, but silently she came to where the two were staring urgently out towards the bridge. Smoke had sprung up from the bridge, and a mist was settling over the city.

“You know what that means,” Jaquen said going to the cabinet and opening it.

Drak didn’t take his eyes off of the growing mist, “What…”

Jaquen brought out an axe, bow, and a quiver, “It means the Kitt’s don’t want us to see what they’re bringing in. It looks to me like someone’s got to them and told them how to do things. Someone with some power behind their words.”

Drak looked back at him, “What do you mean? Like some sort of black knight? C’mon…”

“I wouldn’t doubt it at all. This morning was as clear as any Fall day I’ve ever seen. Look out there now,” He said fitting the quiver on, “I’d be lucky if I saw the blue of the sky now.”

Drak looked back at him, “Do you think they have beasts this time like Dunar said they used to bring.”

“Like I said,” Jaquen said testing the edge of his axe, “I wouldn’t be surprised, because it looks like someone’s got to ‘em with a few words of wisdom. And a great load of knowledge on how to bring a sudden mist up out of nowhere.”

Drak turned from the window and came over the cabinet, “Selace, what will you have to protect yourself. I don’t know if I’ll be available the entire time to look after you.”

Selace smiled, “I’ve been taught how to use the most common thing around here,” She said grabbing a rod from the wall. “A stick.”

Drak smiled back at her, “I’d say you’re good enough,” He took out a sword and tested the edge, “but I think I’d like a good blade beside me any day.”

Selace leveled the rod at Drak, “Try getting me with one any day.”

Drak waved his hand, “No thanks.”

The horns sounded again. This time it sounded right outside the city. Jaquen ran to the window. The fog was now too thick for him to see the people in the street below. A feeling of dread settled on him as he turned back to Drak.

“I don’t think the outpost guards made it back.”

Drak’s face went pale, “You think they were killed?”

Jaquen nodded slowly.

“How can you just lose that many guards? No Shadices can just kill of 140 of Crys’s guards. It wasn’t just men in those numbers; there were many Raenoes in the ranks. All of them were skilled warriors. Jaquen!” Drak said with a sever edge in his voice. “How do you just lose that many men?”

A roar sounded in the distance. Everything went silent. Jaquen just stared out into the mist. The roar was so defiant; it was like something only the mad would bring up out of its hole. Then came the drums. Slow drums that shook the ground beneath their feet. It was a hollow and deep sound. It sounded like only two drums, but these two were beat in such a slow and determined way that it sounded as if an entire army was beating on each their own drums. The roar sounded again and the drums stopped.

Then something like lightning flashed in the mist. Great cry’s were heard and a hole was punched straight through the mist to Jaquen. There Jaquen beheld what was at the bridge, and of more importance, what was at the bridge beheld Jaquen. A great darkness shot through him and his sight was overthrown. He fell to the ground without feeling, but the darkness remained. He couldn’t tell but he was hanging out side the window, still in the sight of what was out there.

The hole in mist pulsed as words formed in his mind. Everything fell to silence, and he heard only the whispers that this thing told him, “I give you a gift young prince.” Then the mist closed back again and his mind was freed.

Drak pulled him back into the library and laid him on the floor. Jaquen still couldn’t feel, but slowly the darkness lifted. Slowly he felt life beginning to come back into him, and his breathing became normal again.

“What happened?” Drak asked earnestly.

Jaquen’s eyes came to rest on Drak’s, and inside those eyes Drak could see that the color had gone from them, but were slowly returning. Then Jaquen spoke, “There are monsters down at the bridge. There is one that gave me something, and is bent only on the destruction of this place. He knows how to do this, but he does not know how well we are at fighting back.”
            “Did you tell him that he better get out of here before we send him back without legs?”

“He told me to go on living. And that in my life I would not find much happiness aside from sacrifice.”

Blades clashed now outside. Drak stepped up to the window and roared out a challenge to Jaquen’s attacker. The mist once again was torn aside and a knife of darkness was thrown into Drak. Drak flew back into the bookshelves, and then crumpled to the floor. Jaquen at this time felt strength come back into him and he stood.

“Selace,” Jaquen said with a grim expression. “Take care of Drak, he will return to you. I have to confront this monster on my own and send it back to where it came from.”

 

Dunar was stunned by what he saw. The amazing display before him was one that he’d never seen before in all of his days. Olf sat leaning on his stick beside him with a look of fatigue. As if what was before him was no challenge, save that he would be sleeping a little harder tonight.

“Why would they come in such force?” Gerald said with surprise.

“Anger is a powerful thing if not dealt with immediately,” Olf said easily. “The force here today is the result of our own necessity to let them live where they will. I suspect that we’ll have to take care of this problem after today.”

Dunar looked down at Olf, “For one who takes things in with a grain of salt, you sure don’t look at a fight like a fight.”

Before the river stood the entire Shadice army in full array. Along with it stood the great beasts that they’d managed to tame, but by what powers none could tell. On the bridge stood a single dark warrior, clothed only in rags of darkness, with a single sword hanging lazily from his hand. The army itself was not a very large one, but it did cover a large portion of the southern shore. They all stood making a great commotion, but with a wave of his hand, the dark figure silenced them all.

Dunar leaned over to look at their own force. Along both sides of them stood a line of archers, three deep, at the ready for when the army made its way into the water. Behind the archers stood the swordsmen of both Raenoe and Men, for very few archers were men as the Raenoe’s shot both faster and better than the men could. Yet there were a few legendary types among the Raenoe archers that were counted good enough to stand up with them. The rest were named swordsmen, as men were naturally better with the sword than they were with the bow.

Ripples of power went through the air. Dunar stood and watched as a hole was punched through the mist, as if an arrow was shot through it. For a moment it stayed open, but Dunar could not see where it had gone, and then it closed again. The dark figure turned now to the north shore and seemed ready to speak. But then it suddenly jerked it’s head back up and the mist was cleared again, a question was given, and the dark one had answered.

Again the mist closed, and the dark one turned towards the north shore, “It is time to understand now who the master of the Dark Wood is, and why it is called such. The light cannot be the masters of something named an ill thing. So I would say you stay here uninvited upon land that is not yours.”

Olf stepped up and leaned forward on his stick, and answered harshly, “Men may name a piece of land what they will, but until they discover the soul of such a thing they can never understand what they name. But their ignorance is not cause for us to leave simply because they do not do what they should.”

The dark one nodded, “Tis a good statement. But unfortunately we’ve come to make our claim besides. And whether you stay or not is no longer up to our kind. We wish for the entirety of this forest, and you stand in our way of claiming it.”

“If our only wrong is to stay where we will then we readily stand against your desires. For when we came here we came not in the face of your kind, but because your kind would not come so far north. You were weak when we came, and we did not desire war, so we let you live where you would and thus we lived where we wished. Never in all this time have we made war upon you, but throughout this time you have done this to us. I fear that after today there shall have to be a rebuttal to such actions.”

The dark one laughed. The laugh echoed in all the ears of the men, and it sounded very dark and full of menace. It was as if there were three of these dark men standing there laughing out of one mouth. The archers looked at each other with nervousness in their eyes.

“Perhaps there will have to be. I will find delight in seeing you all sally forth from within your houses, and finally meeting us on the battlefield. For too long we’ve come here to seek you out, and never have we had the honor of seeing you die upon our doorstep. But we shall see at the end of the day what happens.”

The dark one stepped back and walked back to the south shore.

Jaquen made his way through the street of Crys. The mist was so thick Jaquen had to look at his feet to make sure he was still on the road, and only then would he know if he was going in the right direction. A couple times houses would appear suddenly out of the mist and then he would turn and follow along until it opened up, and then he would simply look at his feet again.

There was no sound of arms clashing or of battle cries, or anything that was like what he saw around the dark figure. He tried to shake the darkness out of his mind as he went along. Ever since the dark figure had entered his mind it seemed as if there were still fingers left there trying to throw him into a delirious state. He fought it as he drew nearer to the bridge.

He knew he was close when he stopped seeing people. Then the mist lifted a little and he saw the men guarding the northern shore. In front of him was the swordsmen in the road, and the archers going either side away from the bridge. Jaquen hefted his axe again just to make sure he could wield it. All was silent though, and all the men kept their eyes forward as if the battle would begin at any moment.

Then a roar sounded. Three more roars answered, and then a great multitude of splashes resounded across the river. A shout came from in front of the swordsmen and Jaquen saw the archers begin to fire in unison. The first row fired then fell back as the second row fired, then the third, and by that time the first was once again ready to fire again. It was a deadly cycle that ensured that a constant stream of arrows would go into the enemy before he ever got close to the other shore.

Jaquen could not see how much damage the archers were doing, but it wasn’t enough as a shout came again and the swordsmen drew their swords. Jaquen smiled. He would find the dark one as he knew he had to. Then he thought of Dunar and hesitated. The darkness returned and crowded the thought out; Jaquen knew what he had to do.

The swordsmen rushed forward, and Jaquen with them. The axe he had was by no means a normal battle-axe, it was more suitable for chopping wood, but Jaquen knew he would be able to wield it deftly. The ground soon gave way under him to water and he was close behind the swordsmen who jumped into the misty waters.

The archers did not give way. They stayed ready for any Shadice that might break through. Dunar, Gerald, and Olf stood at the north end of the bridge simply watching and waiting as the battle continued. Dunar had not the faintest idea that Jaquen was in the fray, and he did not have the thought to seek him out. The battle was progressing and there were other things to think of.

Olf shook his head, “The Shadices are fools. This dark leader I believe is no better as he seems well content with threats but has no more gall than to retire whilst his army does his dying for him. If I were not so old I’d be fighting with these men.”

Dunar nodded, “I would go if I had permission. But I have to remain alive for that which my Queen has given me charge over. I dare not risk his life with my own.”

The monsters that was seen before roared as they reluctantly entered the water. Behind the Shadice army they waded into the fray only to find that the Shadice swordsmen were well in their way. The riders did their level best to keep the monsters at bay, but the frenzy they’d been worked into would not keep them out of it. They began to pick up their own and hurl them at the line of archers. Until finally the riders let them enter further into the water.

The greatest battle was with these monsters who churned the water as they moved, and killed many with each step. But the archers upon the north shore filled each of the four with many arrows until finally one would penetrate farther than the skin and a mighty crash would come about.

As was expected, the Shadices had the worst of the battle, and the swordsmen of Crys fared very well in the defense. But even though the battle was not yet considered done, the dark one seemed ready to play more of a part in it. And the mist was lifted on the bridge.

On the bridge stood Jaquen, on the south end stood the dark one, and on the north stood Gerald, Olf, and Dunar. Unbeknownst to all, Jaquen had jumped onto the bridge and slowly made his way forward until he was halfway across. He’d taken a shield from a Shadice warrior and put it on his back to cover him from arrows. But as soon as the revelation came forth and Dunar saw, he rushed forward to be by Jaquen’s side.

The dark one moved slowly forward.

“You’ve done great wrong by entering my mind as you did,” Jaquen said.

“I gave you a gift young prince. I did not expect that my directions would be followed so well though,” the dark one said laughing a little. “Oh how the young fall to adventure.”

Dunar came up beside Jaquen and brandished his sword, “I wouldn’t think about it. You’ve no claim to him dark one.”

“He entered my mind Dunar,” Jaquen said. “I’ve come to finish the battle on equal terms. He has no power over me.”

The dark one roared, “Oh no?” The figure brought it’s arms out wide very quickly, and a wind sprang up from behind him. A great dark weight settled on Jaquen, and he fell to his knees.

Dunar grasped Jaquen by the shoulders, but Jaquen pushed his arms away and stood up. His eyes ablaze with a strange fire. Dunar looked back at the dark one, “You’ve no claim to him dark one.”

A blaze of fire came from the figures hands, its form took the shape of a sword, and it raised it to a menacing position, “Then break my claim to him valiant master. Who am I to step in the way of a boy and his mentor?”

Jaquen’s could feel an iciness tingle within him. His legs would not respond and he crumpled to the bridge again, the axe he held fell loose in his hands. He watched Dunar step forward in front of him as he lay, unable to do anything. The dark one seemed to laugh, his rags shook silently as Dunar approached. The mist around them grew ominously large to Jaquen’s sight, and he couldn’t see much of anything save for Dunar in front of him and the dark figure beyond.

Dunar kept his sword in front of him as the dark one raised his own up. They came together with a resounding clang, but Dunar’s blade did not break, nor did it seem to be compromised by the fire. But the dark one did not stop at such a setback. It took a step back for a moment and looked at both his blade and Dunar’s. The figure acted as if it were puzzled, yet it regained what it was before quickly.

With a lunge at Dunar the dark one continued its battle. Flashes of light went here and there a Dunar’s blade came together with the fire-sword. Although, by now it was obvious that he blade itself was of real metal, and the fire itself was more of a show as it did nothing to add to the battle save for a distraction.

Jaquen willed himself to move, but his legs and arms did nothing to move with what he wished them to do. What energy he had seemed so insufficient to move the little that he wanted to. He knew that staying there was dangerous to say the least, and that by being there he was constantly on Dunar’s mind.

He watched in sheer helplessness as the dark one worked his way around to where he was now between Jaquen and Dunar. With a finality, the figure turned back and ran towards Jaquen. But it stopped short. Without Jaquen knowing it, Drak had come up behind him and was standing there with his bow out and pointing towards the figure.

It swung its blade around and caught Dunar’s once again. This time it grabbed both of Dunar’s hands and brought Dunar’s face close to it. There were words passed to Dunar, and his face was filled with rage. Drak felt more afraid of that moment than he’d ever felt.

Dunar roared out, and with one motion he threw the figure down on the bridge and cut off the hand that held the sword. An agonized scream pierced through Crys, and the mist was thrown into upheaval. Dunar covered his ears and let out a silent cry of his own. The noise pierced straight through to Jaquen, fire scorched his mind. He jerked with the attack and his eyes flew wide.

He was no longer in Crys. He was kneeling in a haze. There were two figures behind him. The haze was bright. It was the fire that was scorching him, and there was nothing save for a great chasm before him where he was to go now. It was his end.

The scream stopped.

The haze was thicker than it had ever was before. Jaquen stood. His axe came readily to hand and Drak was nowhere to be seen in the fog. A cry rang out in the haze and a blast of air threw Jaquen to the ground. Then the fog cleared. And before him lay a crumpled heap of rags, beyond it lay Dunar.

All about the bridge lay the Shadice army. Desolate and broken. Drak let the tension out of his bow. The sun had come back out, and the day returned to what it had looked like before they were to go hunting. The wind rustled the leaves slightly, and the warmth of the sun bathed them all, trying in vain to banish the chill that they all took part of.

Jaquen walked forward like a man without any strength. His axe fell to the ground, clanging on the stone as it struck the stone. He came to Dunar and dropped to his knees, tears already flowing on his face he grabbed the body and shook it, “You can’t die…” He whispered. Then in agony of sorrow he bent over the cold body that was once his mentor.

Olf turned slightly to Gerald, “I believe hunting should be reserved for another time. We have food in plenty for now, and this Winter season we can improvise for what we do not have. I believe a different hunt should be mustered, and the leaders are out there on the bridge now.”

Gerald looked at Jaquen and Drak, “They are not commanders of men.”

“Oh no?” Olf said with a smile. “We shall see I think that they two will become the greatest of the commanders of men. I think that even age is something that does not hinder them now. Dunar is dead, and there is a rebuttal of such an action; Jaquen shall be the one to give it out.”

“As you say dear Olf,” Gerald said looking back to the two standing.

The army of Crys came back to the shore slowly. Fatigue evident on them all, but a clear victory was theirs. Even still, the death of Dunar was a death felt by all and it was one that was not readily forgotten. The end of one man’s legend, for legend this man Dunar was, would then become the beginning of another. No man yet knew of Jaquen’s destiny, or that of his companion Drak, but it was clear that Jaquen was of great concern to larger powers in that world.