Maelstrom

Light in the Forest1

Generations ago, there was a boy whose adventures decided the fate of both the human race and that of the elves. While he did not have the godly strength or cunning of false heroes in legends and myths, Tarren Half-Elven braved the dangers accompanying his position as the only half-elf in the land. For centuries it had been the duty of the Hybrids to keep the peace of the land and to negotiate through trouble between the races of Tŷr. They lived many times longer than normal humans, learned concepts of the fighting arts extremely quickly, and had a singular ability that neither parent race had: the uncontrollable manipulation of magic…
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“I know you are eager, Tarren, but you have to learn when it is the proper time to rest and conserve your strength.”
Tarren scowled momentarily at the interruption of their sparring. He had wanted to continue training into the night, but he had first watch over camp. The elf girl’s slight build and extremely beautiful figure sometimes caught him off guard. This was one such instance, and he lowered his longsword to wipe the sweat off his brow. Now that she mentioned it, he was feeling slightly fatigued…
The next second Avalynn stood over him, her own blade an inch from his throat and a sly grin softening the hurt of his mistake.
“Always be on guard, remember that.”
He groaned and lifted his head from the dirt, shaking it back and fourth to rid the dizziness from the base of his skull. As Tarren shook his head, a shower of dust showered from his straight black hair and fell once more to the earth. A rueful smile played across his features and he bowed to his master.
Though she appeared to be only a year or two older than his nineteen, in reality Avalynn was nearly seventy. It was to be expected that she would not age as quickly as a human or half-breed, due to the fact that time passed the Elven people by nearly unnoticed. She had several decades of swordsmanship under her belt, which was why she was the teacher. Still, she had to admit, her pupil was a fast learner.
“Well,” the elf began, “the fire is almost burned down and I think it is time we retired. There is much traveling we still must do. Good night, and wake me up for my watch when the moon is a palm away from the horizon.”
Tarren nodded, sheathed his sword and sat with his back against a large sycamore to scan the undergrowth between the trees for any sign of life. Avalynn was already asleep on her bedroll next to the fire. His gaze lingered upon her sharp, angular face and thoughts sprung unbidden to his mind. What would it be like, to hold her close? To have her care about him as more than a companion? …to love him?
A moment after he mentally berated himself. It was a fool’s hope, a folly fantasy, one that had not a spark of a chance of happening. Sure, they had been to death’s gate and back, traveled and trained together for the better part of two years, but his duty would always be separate from hers. Besides that was the fact that she was immortal unless stricken in battle. She would continue living long after he fell below the dust of the earth…
A harsh war cry and the thudding of an axe into the tree an inch from his face shattered Tarren’s daydream in an instant. His body responded with the immediate action that survival required and drew his sword. Leather hissed menacingly as the lightning-blue steel slithered free. In a twisting lunge he dodged the next swing of the heavy-hafted axe and whipped his blade through the wrist of his attacker. With a muted thock and a spray of blood, the hand parted ways with its host.
Four more enemies clothed in soldier’s plate armor dashed into the campsite from the opposite side. Sinking his blade into the throat of his incapacitated enemy, Tarren leapt over his stricken combatant and towards Avalynn to protect her.
Even as he reached the blankets where she lay, the elf was on her feet with sword instantly in hand. The attackers were momentarily deterred by the agility and grace of the movement but charged forward nonetheless. That was a fatal mistake.
Like a single being shadowed by a mirror, Avalynn and Tarren flashed their blades twice each. Four men fell, mortally wounded or dead. While her blade dripped with the sanguineous heart-blood, his hummed with a static energy. Blue sparks and miniature bolts of lightning lanced the air around surrounding it, though the phenomenon faded unnoticed.
“That’s three to two,” Tarren laughed shakily as he prepared himself for the other assailants he sensed were in the surrounding woods.
“Don’t count your dragons before they hatch; I can hear more coming already.” She replied with a wry smile. The tell-tale clank of armor and scrape of weapons drawn from sheathes alerted the pair to the direction of the next attack. Then another subtle, stealthier sound came to Tarren’s ears: that of a bow being drawn. This galvanized him into action, grabbing his friend’s shoulder with a free hand and pulling her to him.
Having taught him herself, Avalynn trusted the young man’s judgment and swung with the speed of a leopard around his body, cheek close enough to brush against his arm, and shot forward towards the men just entering the clearing. Her sword passed clear through the chest of the first and impaled the other in the lung. The two slumped to the ground, and unfortunately brought the sword with them.
With an unladylike swearword, the elf stood without a weapon save the dagger at her belt. Acting without a conscious thought, Tarren took a discarded round shield from a dead warrior, strapped it to his left forearm, and flung himself in front of Avalynn. A fraction of a second passed as he looked into the eye of the archer whose bow they had heard earlier and felt the heavy-shafted arrow bury itself deep into the wood of the shield as Tarren lost balance and lurched to the ground.
In the amount of time it took for this to happen, Tarren’s companion had flung her knife with incredible velocity and accuracy towards the bowman and yanked her sword from the bodies of the impaled warriors.
Seven more soldiers charged, two of which were immediately slain by Avalynn. The nearest survivor to Tarren swung a wickedly spiked mace towards him as he lay on the ground. Two of the inch-long spikes struck and embedded into the iron ring encircling the rim of the shield. He gritted his teeth, grimacing at the thought of the bruise he would have if they got through this alive.
The man with the mace tried without success to remove his immobilized weapon and as he pulled, Tarren let go of the shield. The handle of the mace came back and smashed in the enemy’s teeth. An instant later he was pierced by a bolt fired from his own ally’s crossbow.
Avalynn looked around in slight panic until she saw her companion and rushed over to him. Blood that was not hers soaked through her light blue tunic and from one shoulder her chainmail was torn and bloody, but otherwise she appeared alright. Time seemed to pass without Tarren noticing what was going on; his mind was empty. In another minute the rest of the enemies had fallen to his unstoppable and mindless sword.
At this point his blade was howling for more blood. Its macabre thirst seemed never to be slaked. This feeling greatly disturbed him, as he had never enjoyed bloodshed and did not wish to. With his mind he directed one thought at the gleaming sword: I will not kill for the sake of killing. The urge to end another’s live faded but did not completely evaporate.
Panting slightly with exertion, both elf and half-elf stood ready to continue the fight, but that moment had passed. They wiped their swords clean on the clothes of the dead as they searched for an identity of their attackers. Among the corpses Avalynn discovered a similar brand on each of the soldier’s necks, a black serpent’s head wreathed in flames. Neither of them had any idea what this symbol might mean.
“Are you alright?” Tarren asked, concerned about the gashes on his friend’s shoulder. She winced and gripped it with her other hand, shaking her head. “Let me take care of that-”
He was cut off by the sickening sound of a blade sliding through flesh. With a horrified exclamation he saw the murderous hilt of a dagger protruding from the small of Avalynn’s back. She gasped in shock and stumbled into her student’s strong arms. One of the wounded soldiers had found the will in his dying limbs to commit one last act of violence and backstabbing betrayal.
A torrent of emotions began to hurricane though every fibre of Tarren’s being. Sadness, misery, heartbreak, rage, hate, anger, and, unexpectedly, a deeply abiding and unwavering realization that he could not live without her in his life took over his entire consciousness.
Gently he laid his newfound feelings aside and gazed deep into Avalynn’s eyes. She realized from his expression what he himself had only just discovered. Coughing red specks of blood, she tried to speak.
“Tarren… there is *cough* something… I should have told… you…” she hesitated as if unsure how to continue. “…I… I love…” Then she fell limp in his arms, weak pulse fluttering lower and lower.
He screamed to the starless sky, unleashing every pent-up emotion and every bit of energy within his body. Nearby trees exploded into thousands of tiny splinters, peppering the ground with ramparts of shattered wood. Flames erupted around him, removing every shadow from the clearing and incinerating the dead bodies in the nearby proximity. Shrieking comets fell from the sky, smashing into the woods beyond the river several miles distant.
When the maelstrom of rage and heartbreak ceased into silence, a warm bluish glow surrounded Tarren and the body in his arms. The stab wound in Avalynn’s back sealed on its own accord and left not a mark or scar on the flesh. Color returned to nearly lifeless cheeks, and unseeing eyes focused in and out on Tarren’s face.
Holding her still weak arms tightly around his neck, Avalynn whispered shakily in his ear:
“I’ve never known how to tell you this,” she hesitated as he looked up, astonished to see her alive and well. “But I have always known that you meant something more to me than you supposed. I feared your rejection…” her voice broke, and the beautiful Elven maiden could not continue.
“It was the same with me, I had not the heart to bear loosing you… but we need not fear that now. I will be with you always.” He answered in a whisper. They embraced for several minutes in silence. Tarren cupped her face in his hands, brought her face closer to his and kissed her gently on her perfect, rose colored lips.
“If there is one thing I learned from all my time spent with you,” he said, “it is to expect the unexpected. I never expected to be the one to save you from anything, since you were always saving me before!” Their laughter echoed through the shattered and burned trees, bringing hope and light to the forlorn and forsaken future.2

And so continued another chapter in the lives of Tarren Half-Elven and Avalynn Vräenla…