Savage Flame

Chapter 7

"Be on guard," Sir Baard warned as the Triad of Knights fortified their King in a ring of horses and blades.

"Do you know these woods, Baard?" Leoric kept a steady hand on the hilt of his sword, eyes alert on the tree line. "I admit, I've only seen the sea of the Fjord and our surrounding mountains." The forests beyond his kingdom were unlike anything he'd ever imagined. Flowers bloomed at such a vibrancy of colors that even in his dreams, their hues embraced him. The trees were something to behold as well, trunks stretching towards the sky and folk-like creatures flitting to and fro beneath the bark. "The books of the library didn't mention such beauty."

"I'm sure I know their contexts, my Lord," Sir Njal said, his light blue eyes narrowing as they too scoured the shadows that swayed around them from the sweet-smelling breeze. "Only tales of monsters and deceptive faeries, and our brave soldiers fighting with honor until their ascension to Valhalla." The horse beneath him jostled his position but he kept himself upright. "Perfect for little boys' bedtime stories," he added with a wink.

Leoric chuckled and shook his head. "Alas, my mother made the tutors hide them until we were old enough to sleep without visions of the Mara slinking through the cracks in the walls and sitting on us. There was one night that we had snuck that particular book into my bedroom." Sir Amund smiled at the memory, slipping a small glass bottle away into the leather of his satchel.

"Amund! For Odin's sake, did you seriously bring mead with you?!" Baard scolded the youngest of the knights. The dark blond shrugged playfully.

"What can I say? I'm a man in need of spirit." Njal cackled, throwing his head of platinum blond hair back and the skin around his eyes crinkling,

"Spirit?! There's plenty of spirits where we're going! You're not going to need that!" Baard's face twitched as Njal's laughter threatened to break his facade of a completely stoic face. Leoric grinned as the sound filled the near silence of the forest, creating a pleasant atmosphere for the four travelers.

The hysterics ended abruptly when the blond knight's face went still and he looked Amund straight in the eye menacingly, and demanded, "Now give me those spirits or I'll throw you off your horse."

"Njal!" Leoric sputtered into a fit of giggles at the look of fear that flashed across Amund's face as he was promptly threatened by his friend.

"Hold!" Baard held up a sudden fist, his sturdy stead halting from the slight click of his master's tongue. The two posterior knights unsheathed their weapons and barricaded their King between them, heads swiveling around them. Leoric's back stiffened as his blood coursed through him, a strange energy rippling through the air. Baard had stopped at a clearing in the trees, the open path spreading onto a meadow of wildflowers and sprites flickering little lights atop the toadstools and fragrant petals. Above, the sky twisted and churned, rare blue lightning streaking across the deadly heavens.

Slowly, Baard began to lead them forward, the four wary of the flickering black clouds and the sight of speck-sized creatures watching them as they passed. The horses whinnied nervously, their heads shaking as they trotted. Leoric soothed his animal with a brush on its side, but he could feel the pounding of the beast's heart beneath his fingertips mimicking his own. This was a storm unlike the norm. Soon he would realize this was no ordinary storm, for what dropped from the sky stole his breath away. Pings sounded on the ground, similar to the stones that children threw into the Fjord when it froze over in the winters. But when he outstretched his hand to catch the rain, a dewdrop of hardened stone fell into his hand. Njal plucked another from the air and held it to the eerie light that shone from beneath him, illuminating the undersides of the darkened clouds. "What is it?" Amund voiced all of their thoughts aloud.

"Rødt Regnvær." Red Rain. Njal squinted at the sky as more drops began to pound upon them.

"We should find shelter-" Baard began urgently before he was interrupted by something miraculous. The three knights turned in their saddles to observe their king, whose person was surrounded in rings of red dewdrops. Spirals of golden light erupted from the ground and blended with the rain. The clouds parted and down poured pure sunlight, the dewdrops blazing gold and entwining to nestle a halo of hardened gemstone upon Leoric's head. The forest stilled to silence and out of the ground sprung Alv folk, beautiful, half transparent women, with dragon-like scales for skin that sparkled against the sunlight. The Triad of Knights drew their weapons as the Alv folk pranced towards them.

"Wait!" Leoric held out a hand. "We've come this far without trouble. Let them come." The knights warily obeyed their King, but kept a hand on their weapons. The Alv folk flitted around the four horsemen, their glittering scales refracting rainbows onto their sheer, white and billowy clothes. They were pale as pearls and dainty like daisies, but there was an underlying strength that solidified the luminescence of their opaque eyes. One that jolted the knights and King forward as the spirits took hold of the leather reins of the horses and led them deeper into the forest. The smaller spirits followed behind the band of horses and men, their stronger leaders keeping a hardened iron gaze on the path ahead.

Where Leoric and his knights had stumbled through the unknown woods, the Alv floated graciously along, the horsemen in tow acquiring the graceful stride of their guides. The fellowship trekked across the spacious plains of "The Fae and Flower", as Amund named them, the sky above clear and a pleasant sun pressing through the men's cloaks, warming their stiff bones and etching smiles on their faces. When they stopped to let the horses drink from a calm river nestled in the surrounding valley, Njal stooped down to wash his face in the chilly spring water. When he looked up, he was face to face with one of the Alv spirits. "Gods!" He fell back with a surprised cry, landing uncomfortably on his tailbone. Amund and Baard laughed at the sight, the older knight closing the top to his now-filled water skin and Amund plucking a rare blossom from the riverbed.

The dark blond was curious of the Alv folk, their kind unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. He knew they weren't hostile; when provoked, yes, but here? No. Although the group of spirits kept their distance, the younger sprites happily splashed in the river, the water sliding off their dresses like crystallized tears. One small sprite had bravely ventured over to the other side of the large river to peer at the horsemen, her opaque eyes and pasty skin glowing in the sunlight. Amund twirled the blossom between his fingers, admiring its soft stem and fragrance before holding the flower out before him, offering the young sprite his found treasure. The Alv blinked curiously at the gift and then bent down to smell the flower. He stayed very still, keeping his trained energy rooted in his boots. Suddenly, a sound like the ringing of bells filled the valley, along with Njal's sigh of defeat.

Amund turned his head to the side and nearly fell into the water laughing. Njal sat as stiff as a rod, his dark eyebrows furrowing and his mouth a grimace, as a circle of young sprites danced around him and threw flowers into his lap. The young sprite before Amund plucked all of the petals off the flower and then munched on the stem as she skipped back towards the elders of the Alv folk on the other side of the river. A rather sharp shrill broke through the laughter and one of the more apparent Alv glared across the water, the young circle of faeries shrieking in fright and scurrying back on the distant riverbank. Baard extended an arm to assist Njal, but not before the Alv woman trekked across the water and glowered down at the platinum blond. Baard froze, extracting his hand and placing it at the hilt of his sheathed sword.

The Alv then knelt beside Njal, her eyes not opaque but a vivid violet-red. Njal dared not breathe, even as her long, spindly fingers began to weave his loose hair into an intricately-designed braid, threading small river roses into the strands. There were too many braids to count, the Alv completing them as fast as hummingbird wings. Then, she carved a pigment from the clay of the embankment, cupping the odd substance in her hand. With her thumb, she painted a foreign rune on Njal's forehead. "Styrke." His sharp inhale was the only sound in the silence besides the rippling of the river. Strength. Her voice was ancient, as if born at the very core of the earth before it burned. Baard knelt in humble respect before the Alv as she painted him a different rune. "Beskyttelse." Protection.

Amund's eyes fluttered shut as her cold thumb traced a rune upon his skin. Shivers snaked down his spine as she declared, "Nåde." Grace.