Young Writers Society

Edited mostly as advised... Hope this is better than the first version.

Prologue

A shadowy figure passed through the dense forest at a hurried pace. The heavy mist surrounded it, enveloping it in gentle curls and swirls. Vapor gusted through its nostrils, puffing out quickly and with obvious difficulty. A heavy groan followed each breath. On top of the smudgy form sat another one. Slumped and crouched, it seemed breathless in the quiet of twilight. It was an elf and his mount, trotting through the deathly silent forest.

Suddenly the horse stopped. It could walk no more. Agitated, exhausted breaths escaped the animal’s chest with loud puffs. Its mane billowed in the wind, revealing a white star on the forehead of the otherwise completely black steed. A strong trembling passed through its muscles, every movement causing pain.

The rider slid out of the saddle. He almost collapsed under the impact of the fall, but then clutched onto the mane of his animal for support.

“All will be well, Daray,” he said in a breathless whisper. His voice was hoarse and strained.

Daray took a small wobbly step, as if to show that he was incapable of walking any further.

“Don’t worry, we’re not far.”

A low burr escaped the horse’s throat.

“Come Daray. Let’s go.”

This time the horse listened. Step by step, he trod onward, loudly showing his displeasure with loud whinnies.

Then, the rider heard something. He threw back his hood, revealing long, light hair. He brushed it away from his forehead and behind a pointed ear. His grey eyes shone like silver coins, capturing every movement of the still woodland. Clutching the bow hidden under his cloak, he took a cautious step forward. His elegantly shaped face betrayed no emotion, apart from the wildly sparkling eyes. He continued walking, but slowly now, with care. His chest movement was slow and regular, as if in sleep.

They walked without the slightest sound now, not a twig snapping under the horse’s weight, not a bird daring to flutter away. They refrained from their usual mental conversations, even though no one could possibly hear those.

The elf had the rare gift of being able to communicate mentally with various animals regardless of their species, and could even channel his thoughts into the minds of other elves or humans who did not share the ability to do so. He was able to hold conversations with the occasional plant or tree but after centuries of their kind remaining still and silent there were very few left that chose to participate with an elf or any other living creature. Only animals of the same species could converse with each other in this way – an elf or human being capable of communication with other beings was extremely rare. Aside from internal speech he was also able to hear the thoughts of others, not to say that he could read minds - such a thing could never be done as it violated the natural laws of magic. No, only thoughts and feelings could be revealed to him by those who were willing and open to his mind and heart; even then it would still be possible for him to be led astray through falsehoods or misgivings. However, despite this fact, his gift proved to be useful nonetheless.

Then, he heard it again. It was the crunching of leaves under the weight of feet. Human feet. The elf could sense the presence of another person. He tensed. His hand wandered to his neck, touching a thin golden chain. He clutched the sapphire that was hanging from it, for a brief moment afraid that it was gone.

Daray, someone is following us, he said quietly through his mind, making contact with his horse.

I know. Friend or foe? Daray replied with a question.

A friend would not sneak up on us in a forest, would he? I am concerned about the way he’s following us silently, and trying not to be seen or heard.

As usual, you are right. What should we do, dear friend?

It’s a human, I’m certain of that. And only a Deserter would dare follow us this far into the woods. He knows who I am. We are in danger. There is no point in running, as he is probably armed, and knows how to use magic. He’ll kill us before we take a single step. He’s following us from a safe distance – if we turn back to attack him, his arrows will reach us before we have time to get close enough to even have a target. The only thing left is ambush. We will not let him take what he wants.

They talked for a few more minutes and finally came up with a plan.

The elf stopped and talked to his horse out loud:

“We shall rest here, Daray. It is late, and I am tired. There is another long journey ahead of us tomorrow. Let us make camp here.”

The horse stopped and lay down under a tall, mossy tree. His rider leaned back against him, covering himself with his cloak. The weapons concealed under it however, were in full readiness, clutched by the elf’s bony fists. Arrow in one hand and bow in the other, he waited, observing his surroundings through the lashes of his half-closed eyes. It appeared as though he had fallen fast asleep. His mind was far from it though.

Do you see him, Alti? asked the horse. Only he could start mental conversations with the elf; in all other cases, Alti had to be the one directing the thoughts to another creature.

No, but I hear him.

Darkness had fallen over the two travelers. The forest was even quieter than before, now that the horse was not walking. Alti could clearly hear only one sound – the quiet crunching of dried leaves. A human would misjudge it for a mouse’s stomping, or not hear anything at all. An elf, however, was entirely sure the creature was much bigger than a rodent.

A Deserter, thought Alti. Walks like a squirrel. Oh, what I would give to be able to see that rascal.

The Deserter quieted down and settled behind a bush. With keen eyes, he observed the “sleeping” Alti, until he decided that the time was right. Then he struck.

Alti saw the movement, and jumped up. To his surprise, he was immediately thrown back to the ground with extreme force. He took his dagger and prepared to strike his attacker. With dismay, he realized that whoever threw him to the ground was prepared for a counterattack and already had a knife drawn. His strength was humongous - almost more than Alti could oppose. He felt the fingers of his attacker curl around his throat and press down.

Daray, help me!

I’m coming, the faithful animal said in a deep voice. He got up and reared with a loud nicker.

Hurry, before this… thing crushes me.

Daray galloped over, and reared again. The assaulter jumped back, as if in surprise. For a moment, a human face was revealed. Long, black hair swirled wildly around it, and Alti saw a tattoo of a phoenix on his cheek. There was a long scar across his forehead and diagonally down to his mouth, shooting past the bloodshot eyes. The man quickly covered it again, and struck once more, this time for the horse. A shrill neigh echoed through the woods, carrying the sound of fright far and wide. Daray, although hurt, bounded down on the attacker with his heavy hooves. But the man already drew back and was out of reach. Daray saw a flash of a dagger, realizing with pain and rage that the foe had struck his master. He frantically tried to make contact, but of no avail. Another frantic whinny, a scream, and then everything fell silent. The attacker was down, but so was Alti. The horse put his nose to his master and waited for his strength to come back. He would take Alti back home, no matter what the cost. Daray took the elf’s cloak between his teeth and gently started dragging him across the forest floor. Everything was silent, except for the quiet crunching of leaves under Daray’s feet as he walked on, tired, but hopeful.

Chapter One

Master Orion sat at his table. He had a letter in his hand, but refused to open it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what it says. His keen eyes studied the paper of the envelope, looking for answers. The person who wrote and sent the letter clearly wasn’t nervous – there were no curled corners, no wet paper, no scratches… everything was perfectly clean, straight and orderly. He was about to open it, and then put it down again. The perfect condition that the letter was in was suspicious. After all, the message was handled before – there should be signs of dirt, damage, or at least bends or curls. It looked as if the envelope was touched by extremely careful hands, and only once, not carried for thousands of miles across deserts, woodlands and mountains. No. He would wait a day or two. He was in no hurry – he could open it later, with Alti at his side. Yes. That would be the best option. Alti, with all his rare talents and abilities, would surely know what to think about the peculiar letter.

Just then, he heard noises outside. Someone was shouting, and many others joined him. He put the letter safely away. Hearing a knock on the door, he got up.

“Master Orion, come quickly!”

Orion rushed to the door and opened it. It was his youngest student, Filias.

“Master!” The boy was panting, and his face was flushed. Orion had reason to worry – Filias never lost control of his emotions or expressions.

“What is it?” He asked in his deep, oily voice.

“Alti…”

Orion didn’t need further explanations. He dashed out of the door, pushing past Filias. The noises of the street surrounded him. A couple of elves surrounded him, shouting things like:

“Master, hurry…”

“Alti and Daray! They’re here!”

But mostly, a comment that disturbed him most:

“Master, it’s Alti… he’s hurt!”

Orion pushed past a man standing in his way and fell to his knees. Suddenly, the world blurred, and he could see nothing but the shape before him – Alti, laying on the ground with blood soaked clothes and a black horse standing above him. Daray had a wound on his shoulder and was panting heavily, exhausted from his struggle.

“Take the horse and tend to him,” Orion said quietly, trying to hide the tears that welled up in his eyes. “I will take care of Alti.”

At first, Daray refused to follow the elf that was trying to lead him away. He wanted to stay with his master and help him. But after a brief exchange of blows and kicks, he listened to his tired muscles. He gave in. I’m too weak, the animal thought. I’ll put up a fight later.

Meanwhile, Orion was tending to Alti. He took the young elf on his arms and examined the deep wounds.

“He’s dead,” someone murmured behind him.

Orion turned around as if struck by lightning, drawing his sword.

“No, he’s not,” he said slowly, pressing the thin tip against the man’s throat. “But you will be, if you don’t keep quiet.”

“My apologies, master,” the elf replied with a small, humble bow. “I will watch my tongue.”

“How is he?” A young woman stepped closer to the Master. She had long, braided hair, and her features resembled Alti’s. A crimson scarf was tied around her head like a crown, with the long ends drooping down over her shoulder. She wore an azure dress with a belt made of the same material as her headband. Her only ornaments were her beautiful grey eyes and long lashes, but one could easily take her for a young princess, judging by the proud way she carried herself. She was Delphia, Alti’s sister.

“I don’t know.” Orion’s lip twitched slightly. His eyes went moist once again. “Alti, my child…”

Delphia looked down.

“Let me see.”

She took a close look at Alti. His long cloak was torn in several places where branches must have scraped him when he was dragged along the ground. A once-white flannel shirt hung loosely on his limp body, ripped and blood-stained on his chest and abdomen. Hair stuck to his back and shoulders, and his head was tilted slightly to the side. There was a long laceration on his forehead. He had never seemed so lifeless before. Alti was never tanned, but now his face was white as a sheet of paper. Once ivory cheeks turned grey and sunken; his normally thin, expressionless face was now strangely peaceful, with a faint, slightly painful smile lingering on his slightly parted lips. He looked as though he lost half his weight since he left home. Delphia touched his cheek gently. A tear rolled down her face, and splashed onto the ground. Finally, she mustered the courage to press her ear against his heart.

Holding her breath, she listened. After a long while, a quick, weak heartbeat echoed in her ears. The girl felt a gentle rise and fall of Alti’s chest, so weak that almost undetectable by eye. A waterfall of happiness poured from her eyes.

“He’s alive,” she choked out through her joyful tears.

Orion’s eyes widened. He crouched a little lower, and took Alti’s hand. It was still fairly warm. A quiet smile rippled across his face for a fraction of a second.

“Come, Delphia. Help me take him inside.”

They took Alti up as gently as they could, and started carrying him towards the master’s house. Just as they were entering, Orion felt a fuzzy, confused mind touch his.

What’s going on?

All will be well, Alti. Just relax for now, and let us take care of you. Orion smiled, relieved and completely calm once again.