Ghosts Of Alfhaven (Book 2) Read online

  The dark forest spun around him as the force of the kick knocked him backwards. He bounced along the bough, finally stopping at the edge of the drop-off. He had to will his senses to return to him. He struggled to get on his hands and knees, but even that was a challenge as his loss of equilibrium caused his head to swim.

  He was lifted off the surface again, this time by his throat. The captain’s powerful hand gripped him tight, cutting off his ability to breath. He choked and gasped for air, but to no avail. His body flew backwards and slammed into the trunk of the tree. The shock of the impact nearly knocked him senseless again, but his rage built up, fueled by his sheer will to not be made into a weakling in front of these savage creatures.

  He forced his eyes open. His vision was slightly tinted crimson. He was surprised by the clarity in which he could see the captain. Through the lens of rage, Sawain’s eyes were sharpened. He could see the anger in his assailant’s eyes. The captain’s palm was pressing hard against Sawain’s chest and his blade was at Sawain’s throat. Sawain growled at the ranger and spat in his face, allowing his fury to stoke higher.

  The ranger’s own countenance intensified from Sawain’s defiance, “You filthy dog! You are an abomination! You are a disgrace! I should kill you here and leave your corpse for the Crawlers!”

  One of the other rangers broke in. His voice was wary.

  “Captain, we have to let the Triumvirate deal with him. You’re speaking of murder. Please sir, be reasonable.”

  The subordinate’s words seemed to be effective on the outraged captain. Sawain felt his grip slacken. The blade slid harmlessly away from its prey.

  “You’re right. As much as I would love to skin this pup here and now, these are not war times anymore. You’re lucky, man-elf.”

  Sawain grinned at the captain with a defiant gleam in his eyes. The captain’s flashing eyes returned the cruel smile. He moved with such swiftness that Sawain did not have time to react. Pain shot through his temple and blinded him. He felt himself falling, unable to command any of his muscles. He slipped into unconsciousness again.

  When he awoke, he was in complete darkness. He blinked his eyes. Searing pain shot through his skull. He groaned and sat up. He was on a cold, hard slab. It felt like polished stone, but he could still not see anything in the darkness that surrounded him. He realized that his feet were unbound, though his hands were still tied together.

  He slowly rose to his feet, hoping he would not fall over. He shuffled forward slowly, with his hands held out ahead of him. It did not take him long to find a wall. He followed it slowly until he found a corner. He was relieved to discover he was in some sort of cell, and not left stranded in some tree.

  “Hello? Is anyone in here? Can anyone here me?”

  The sound of metal scraping against metal pierced the silence and the familiar orange glow of lantern light spilled into the room, revealing it to be completely made of wood. He silently thanked Turin that his vision was still intact as a voice called out.

  “You awake finally?”

  Sawain moved to the source of the light. It and the voice came from a small barred window on the wall to his right. He could make out the upper face of a guard with distinctive elven features. Sawain squinted and came close to the window.

  “Where am I? What’s going on?”

  The guard responded in a cheerful tone, “You are in Deepglade Prison, safest prison in Alfhaven! You are here on trespassing charges and because you requested a trial before the Triumvirate. You woke up just in time, too, friend! Thought I was going to have to soak you to bring you back to your senses. You’ll have to forgive Captain Nerelis for being so rough on you. He’s not very fond of outsiders. That’s understandable, of course, given the way things are now.”

  Sawain gently touched the bruise on his face and snorted, “Yeah, well, I may be an outsider, but my mother was not. This is a fine treatment I’ve had so far.”

  The guard’s voice was sympathetic as he cooed to Sawain through the bars, “Ooh, that is too bad. I’m so sorry for your discomfort, but you are a criminal, you know. You did attack a ranger captain after setting foot on forbidden grounds.”

  Sawain’s ire was rising, “I didn’t know I was on forbidden grounds, and he put a blade against my throat! I wasn’t going to let him kill me!”

  The guard chuckled, “Oh, he wouldn’t kill you, man-elf. He is bound to the same law we all are. Speaking of that law, it’s time for your appearance before the Triumvirate. Are you ready to see something amazing, outsider?”

  Sawain grit his teeth as the foul nickname filled his ears, “Stop calling me man-elf. My name is Sawain. Yes, I am ready to see your Triumvirate.”

  The guard closed the barred window, leaving Sawain in complete darkness for a moment before the sound of locks clicking and metal grinding filled the room. The door swung slowly open, giving Sawain time to step back. He could now see the guard in full view.

  He wore a black vest of hardened leather with spiraling knot patterns trimming the edges of his shoulder plates and the edges around the neck and belt line. More leather plates overlapped each other on his legs, coming down to his knees. Sawain saw gray fabric between the leg plates and the high boots that stretched over his shins. A curved longsword was bound to his left hip and a brass lantern was in his right hand. This elf had a friendly demeanor. His eyes were a brilliant blue and a black mustache clung to his upper lip. His hair was black as well. It was wild, like the hair of the others. It was cut shorter, but still stuck out in clumps.

  “Well, Sawain, let’s get you to your trial.”

  He motioned for Sawain to follow him. He began walking away. Sawain stood in the doorway, stunned at the lack of binding or force this elf used. He glanced down the opposite hallway to see if there were other guards. The one who opened his cell turned and smiled coyly at Sawain.

  “Not thinking of running, are you? That would make you look awful guilty in the Triumvirate’s eyes. Besides, if you did make a break for it, the Arborgard would cut you down in a heartbeat. I can tell you, none of them would loose any sleep over it, either.”

  Sawain eyed him warily, second guessing his own train of thought. The guard was right, he was here to prove his innocence, and he did need the support of the Triumvirate to save Anvilheim.

  “I thought elves didn’t sleep anyway,” Sawain remarked snidely as he walked toward the guard.

  The guard chuckled and turned back around, heading down a wide spiraling hallway that sloped downward, “That’s a ridiculous myth.”

  Sawain followed the guard in silence as they made their way down the hallway. Sawain noticed that the entire hallway was made of wood.

  “Are we in a giant tree?”

  The guard glanced over his shoulder and flashed Sawain a smile, “Something like that. The buildings in Alfhaven are as alive as you and I. They are made from the forest itself, bent by the will of the druids into halls and houses. Deepglade is actually a dozen great oaks twisted together by the druids. It’s a beautiful place, for a prison, at least, on the outside. It’s still filled with dangerous criminals on the inside.”

  Sawain let the idea of being inside a living building process in his mind as the guard stopped at a wooden door that looked like it was made of iron vines woven tightly together. He produced a key from around his neck and slid it into a keyhole in the door. When he turned the key, there was a click and the iron vines unraveled themselves, creating a passageway.

  “Quickly now, before the door closes.”

  The guard stepped into the adjoining hallway and Sawain followed suit. When he stepped through, the iron vines rewove themselves over the passage. Sawain was shocked at the display.

  “Did you do that?”

  The guard smiled and shook his head, “No, not me. I don’t have a drop of magic blood in my body. That’s more of the Druid’s handy work. If you think that’s impressive, wait til you see the Arborhart.”

  Sawain was curious, so he had to ask, “Ar
borhart?”

  The guard nodded as he led him down a straight hallway of twisted vines, “Aye, it’s more commonly called the Heart of the Forest. It’s a beautiful citadel magicked up from the largest tree in the forest. The city of Alfhaven is built around it. It’s quite a sight. I could tell you about it, but you’ll see it yourself soon enough.”

  The guard led Sawain through a series of labyrinthine hallways and stairs. Eventually, they stepped into a large open room in the base of one of the great oaks. There were guards in similar armor as Sawain’s guard going in and out. The ones coming in were mostly dragging unconscious criminals with them.

  Sawain shot the guard a glare, “I see that I wasn’t the only one who was treated unfairly.”

  The guard quipped back, “If everyone is being treated the same as you, what makes it unfair?”

  Sawain did not have a good answer to the inquiry, so he shut his mouth and fumed to himself. When they stepped through the doors on the far side of the room, Sawain found himself outside again. He second guessed himself when he looked around, though.

  He stood on a street of woven vines that flowed in three directions. He was surrounded by buildings that were made of wood. Leafy boughs protruded from the tops of some of the buildings. Sawain could see a massive bridge that wound its way in a loose spiral up a tree that branched off in several directions, each of its boughs connecting to other trees, forming suspended highways above the lower city. He looked up and noticed a massive dome of woven thorns that towered hundreds of yards above the city and stretched out as far as he could see. Millions of glowing fungi clung to the thorny dome, giving it the appearance of a starry night sky. To his left, something out of his vision was giving off a bright white glow that brightened most of the city.

  He stood in amazement, with his jaw slack as he took in the beauty of the city. The guard pulled at his arm.

  “Come on Sawain, you can go sight-seeing later. You have an appointment to keep.”

  The guard whistled at an approaching cart that was being drawn by the largest badger Sawain had ever seen. Its eyes glowed like the other animals around the forest and it had bony growths puncturing its pelt. He assumed this to be one of the animals affected by the forest’s magic. The cart driver eyed the guard and Sawain cautiously as he drew up to them.

  “Where to, then?”

  The guard hung his lantern on a hook by the prison door and flipped the driver a coin, which was snatched from the air by the driver. He ushered Sawain into the cart as he talked to the elf driver.

  “To Arborhart, please. We’re in a hurry too, if you don’t mind.”

  The driver nodded and waited for the guard to climb into the cart. Once both passengers were aboard, the cart lurched forward and began racing down the twisting streets. Sawain watched the city rush by as he tried not to throw up the contents of his virtually empty stomach. The guard spoke to him as they moved along.

  “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Ilias. Nice to meet you, Sawain. Thought you might want to know a thing or two about the city and the Triumvirate before you face the trial. First of all, be on your best behavior while at the Arborhart. It’s a holy place to the people of Alfhaven. The people here worship their ancestors. Two simple rules in Alfhaven: respect the living, revere the dead. The Arborgard protect the city, while the Ancestral Guard protects the Arborhart.”

  “Ancestral Guard?” Sawain asked.

  Ilias nodded, “Aye, spirits of fallen druids that were so closely bound to the forest that when their bodies were destroyed, their spirits remained and took on a sort of semi-corporeal state. Put simply: They’re ghost soldiers. Hard to kill someone who’s already dead.”

  Sawain scratched his chin, “But how can a spirit hurt anyone?”

  Ilias smiled, “Remember, I said they were semi-corporeal. They retain a portion of their druidic powers. What makes them visible to the living is a sort of body the spirit forms out of mist. The spirit can also turn that mist into a weapon that is sharper than any natural sword.”

  Sawain nodded, terrified at the thought of ghosts wielding mist swords. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat.

  “What keeps them from killing everyone?”

  Ilias replied, “Sense of duty, lingering morality. That, and they are bound to the light of the Arborhart. That means they cannot stray from it, even if they wanted to.”

  Sawain nodded, feeling a little more comfortable about the Ancestral Guard.

  They turned a corner and the city opened up. From Sawain’s vantage point, he could see a breathtaking sight. A spiraling tower of white wood rose from the ground to the top of the dome. Three smaller towers of the same elegant build rose around it, tapering off with pointed domes of woven branches. Each one was connected to the main tower by two suspended hallways of woven white vines. The weaves of vines opened at points, creating beautifully shaped windows covered by stained glass. Each window was adorned by a glass mosaic of an elvish hero or robed cleric. The towers were surrounded by a wall of white briars that rose twenty feet into the air and surrounded the entire complex.

  Sawain let his mouth hang open. The wood itself, both of the buildings and the briar wall, glowed with a pure white light. A light haze of mist surrounded the entire citadel, giving it a ghostly appearance. Ilias chuckled at Sawain’s reaction to this sight.

  “Welcome to the Arborhart, Sawain. The Triumvirate is inside, at the top of the central tower. Good luck in there, you’ll need it.”

  Chapter 3

  Sawain followed Ilias out of the cart, eyes still stuck on the Arborhart. They stood at the gates of the great citadel. The walls stretched so far in either direction that Sawain could barely tell where they turned inward. Two ghostly soldiers dressed in transparent white armor stood on either side of the gate, each one leaning on a long spear made of the same misty material as their armor and bodies.

  The armor looked to be some sort of gleaming metal. It was full plate mail that was adorned with vine-like etchings. The pauldrons and upper leg plates were shaped like broad leaves. The helmets on their heads looked like they were made of a sort of leaf mail mesh. The metallic canopy on their heads flowed down across the backs of their necks.

  They stared straight ahead, as if they could see something that Sawain could not. Being in their presence unnerved him. Their eyes turned on him and met his gaze, which chilled him to the bone. Ilias gave him a shove from the back, which caused him to stagger forward.

  “It’s not polite to stare, Sawain. Come on, move your feet. You don’t want to keep the elders waiting.”

  He shot a backwards glare at the pushy guard and marched dutifully toward the gates. The two guards spoke at the same time, stopping Sawain in his tracks.

  “Halt. Who approaches the Arborhart Gate? State your business.”

  Sawain could not find his tongue. He stammered nonsensically for a moment. He heard Ilias sigh and take a breath.

  “I am Ilias of the Arborgard, Deepglade Prison Unit. I am transporting prisoner Sawain Thrallborn of Anvilheim to his trial before the Triumvirate of Elders.”

  The ghosts studied the pair for a moment, then raised their spears and slammed the butts of the weapons against the earth. The misty aura in the air intensified and condensed on the gates of the Arborhart. Sawain watched in amazement as the intricately woven gates pulled themselves apart, much like the smaller door at the prison, but on a grander scale. The guards spoke again when they were fully open.

  “You may enter. The elders are expecting you, Sawain Thrallborn.”

  Ilias gave the ghostly sentries a respectful bow and ushered Sawain inside. The gates quickly closed behind them. Sawain let his eyes wander all over the outer courtyard of the Arborhart. The walkway they strode across was made of the same white wood, woven together in a tight knot pattern about five feet wide. It stretched across a green lawn from the gate to the central tower. It also branched off to the left and right, weaving through beautiful hedge gardens adorned with viole
t and blue flowers. Sawain found the courage to speak again as he took in the view.

  “So, you know a lot more about me than you let on earlier.”

  Ilias chuckled, “I was just being friendly.”

  Sawain snorted, “The others around here should take a lesson from you. Say, Ilias, You didn’t happen to see a couple of halflings come into the prison the same time I did, did you? One was a man with a thin blonde beard and close cut hair, the other was a woman who would have been in very bad shape.”

  Ilias nodded, a grim demeanor veiling his face, “Aye, the woman was in poor condition, she was taken to the infirmary. I haven’t seen her since. The other one was locked up in Deepglade as well. He ranted and raved like a wild animal for three days before he wore himself out. I didn’t know that halflings could be so full of stamina.”

  Sawain nodded, “Is he still there?”

  “Yes,” Ilias answered, “but I doubt the Elders will let him go any time soon. He did quite a number on poor Lieutenant Bauthas.”

  Sawain sighed. He remembered the temper Jatharr was capable of stoking when put in stressful situations. He resolved mentally to free his friend as well. He was confident that the elders would listen to him once he told them who he was.

  Ilias led him into the main tower of the Arborhart. It was larger inside than it looked from the outside. The tower was hollow on the inside. The inner courtyard was full of elves kneeling in prayer at one of the threescore stone statues lining the inner walls. The same pale mist that composed the Ancestral Guards hovered over each statue, forming a loose halo of light above each head. Sawain assumed the statues were of family patriarchs or great heroes who fell in battle defending the city.

  A fountain in the center of the courtyard emanated the same pure white light the towers gave off, but at a brighter intensity. The ground here was a level, grassy field. Ilias led him to the right of the entrance. A staircase made of thick tree boughs woven together extended out ten feet from the wall and ran up along the diameter of the tower. Sawain noticed another floor was woven together about sixty feet above them. It was not as tightly woven as the walls or doors, so he could see rays of light beaming down from a pale blue source above, which gave the grove of statues below a peaceful, more ethereal ambiance.