[Contradiction?]: 578.Chapter 1 Extract: Paladins of Tuthia (Saga)

Krigac threw himself behind a thick oak that lay dead on the forest floor. His black hood was torn by a sword slash and his long dark hair bled threw it, waving in the wind of the woods. His robe was left in rags around his slim muscular body. He aggressively griped it and tore it away from him, revealing a full suit of grey colored leather armor that gleamed and shined in the blue light seeping through tree above. He put his back to the old tree and started to breathe heavily holding his side in pain. His sword was drawn in the other hand but he was unprepared for another attack. The sword had a majestic blade with runes of hidden meaning traveling their pilgrimage from the handle upwards, the leather handle was pure black and a gem of power shone like a guiding light from the hilt. Krigac gathered his thoughts, thinking on his next move, quickly darting his eyes around the overgrown forest. Bramble came up to his waste and the trees where so think and deep set that it was impossible to see anything past five foot, without vision, he had to sense. This forest had grown next to the temple all his life. He knew the routes, the short cuts and all the secrets it has to hide, but tracking an enemy just as skilled as he seemed trouble some. He looked around once again, nothing but the rustling of the birds singing in the trees. He was becoming frustrated in the thought that he had given the fight away, losing his mark. He looked up through the over-grown trees knowing the sun would fall soon and with it what poor sight he had. He had been fighting tirelessly for hours in the forest and was growing weary of his fate.

Crack! An arrow hit the tree with deadly force. Sharp splinters struck into Krigac’s face. He looked up in the direction it came from, another, this one on target flew towards him. He fell to the muddy floor; the tree took another deadly hit. He stood up as fast as he could almost slipping in the wet marshy ground sword ready to swing in any direction, but there was nothing, his eyes darted around the woods, from tree to tree, nothing, his anger turned to rage and he let out a war cry of ancient tongue. After the echo died down he heard giggling, childish giggling all around him, the laughter became demonically high and sent shivers all threw him. “Dam these cursed woods” he spat. He turned to look at the arrows in the tree, they were home made and the bodkin heads were crafted perfectly. Krigac wondered where someone would get bamboo shafts from in this part of the land and what birds’ feathers swayed with life even after they had been plucked from its body. After this he hastily moved deeper into the woods, knowing that this creature had to be stopped. For no one must reach the temple on his watch.
 
He came into a clearing he recognized, the sun hit the moist marsh floor as it sparkled like a thousand eyes. This is where he normally camped while hunting game with Sethri, the charcoal wood from the last camp fire they lit lay in the center. Heavy worn logs lay around it which had been used for seats. A family of reth-rabbits that were there fighting over the scraps of food, these rabbits where scavengers and vermin, they had no fur and were round, small and fat. Their teeth are rotten mucus hanging in all directions from their drooling jaws, still remaining as sharp as their claws; they grow no bigger than the size of an average human foot but will still wait for the inexperience camper to sleep and then pounce at the person’s neck while he is still, never to wake up. At the sight of Krigac’s arrival they scampered at high speeds into the forest. He quickly picked up a small branch and launched it towards them all, hearing their yelps of discomfort as they gained even more speed.
“Stinking creatures” his voice was muffled by his panting breathe. He sat against another tree wondering if this one would take another arrow for him. “Resting? Then your time is up!”
Krigac shot to his feet to see a man at the other side of the clearing, a bow of Elmwood lay across his shoulder, so peacefully it even diminishes the elf craftsmen and their work. The twined string made of glowing silk and the pattern of the wood told the story of its life. The man wore the same black cloth as Krigac, the same robe, the same hood, but his were perfect. No scratch or tare upon anything he wore, and it lay about his thin body like a coat of evil mist. He dropped his bow with great speed, drew his sword, it was silver, a red glowing aura around the blade. It had a dragon engraved deep into the bottom of the blade; the handle was carved in solid ruby and shone in the closing darkness. It is the dragon of Tuthia. Krigac was amazed by the sword. He had never seen anything like it before. He knew his blade was of the same quality given to him as a gift for his sacrifices, and he felt this was one more test. The mans eyes focused on Krigac’s movement, his hand gripped tightly on the godlike sword. With swift movement he began to charge into the fight, letting out a snarling roar. Krigac dug his feet into a defensive stance, held his sword in two hands, ready. The man arrived at speed, striking in a downward arc towards Krigac’s head. The blades connected and sparks singed the cold winter air. Krigac used all his strength to push the man away and to his own surprise he succeeded, the man came again jumping at him, this time faster, stronger and louder, Catching Krigac of guard he swung hitting the blade out of his hand. Krigac knew there was no other option, raising his hand he began to concentrate on darkness, on blinding. When he thoughts where as pure as the peace of the forest he yelled “Tuthia!”
The man fell to the floor dropping his sword as darkness clouded his vision. Krigac quickly recovered his sword from the marsh mud and held it to the man’s throat.
“Who are you? And what is your business in the forest of Decri?” Krigac demanded in a worn-out voice. The man began to laugh hysterically, and then the clapping of his hands sent Krigac into pure disbelief.
“It was very dangerous of you to use your magic paladin of Tuthia” the man laughed.
“I know my limits” Krigac replied moving to remove the hood from the man’s head. He looked up and grinned at Krigac, His head awkwardly tilted on a curious angel, the man’s face was a rich color, well treated and healthy. No hair grew upon his head and his eyes shone an emerald green, a perfectly deep scar running down the left side of his face as a main feature. Krigac fell back in shock and then uncontrollable laughter creped up on him.

The man laughed with him as they both got up and hugged one another. “Priest Evfllon, what brings you to this noble forest?” Krigac asked “And what was with the attack?”
He added in laughter.
“Even Paladins of your caliber have to be tested young one”
Evfllon smiled with his trademark grin, slightly sinister yet calm and wise “You are still a young Paladin Krigac, but you magic and belief is strong. I am here to initiate you tomorrow”
The words hit Krigac with excitement, as of tomorrow he will become a true Paladin of Tuthia. The forest seemed to shine in a new light in Krigac’s eyes now the fight with an unknown enemy turned out to be and old friend. The Birds that where at peace a few feet higher had came down to the ground to feed and the peace had traveled with them, under their wings and in their song.
“Did you hear the childish giggling in the forest Evfllon?”
Krigac questioned to only see that his question had fallen upon distracted ears
“Evfllon?” Krigac’s mouth was then soon covered by Evfllon hand and then he returned his gaze into the woods.
“I believe out little duel we had took us deeper into these woods than I expected young one”
Evfllon quietly laughed as he pointed out another clearing. Krigac looked closer, slowly creeping forward trying not to snap anything below his feet. It was no problem due to marsh swamp floors of the forest, which was why he always had to be aware. His brother had told him a troll could travel silently of the floors of this forest.
His eyes found the target. A slim woman dancing around a cauldron in a red dress of fine fabric that caressed her body, her hair fell down to her waist like a layer of golden lining, Krigac felt drawn towards her and began to move closer.
“Fool” Evfllon laughed quietly while gripping Krigac back knowing that the young boy had never been this deep in the forest. Krigac shook his head violently as he slowly became free from the trance of this mystic woman.
“That young one, is a Forest Siren, she might seem beautiful now but when you get close enough she’ll soon change on you” he giggled “come on, we should keep moving” Evfllon gestured towards another root they could take though the tall brambles. The both of them slowly retreated backwards and headed down a new path Krigac had never noticed. They walked on the un-tread trail while cutting down the think brambles with their swords and like Krigac expected the sun began to fall covering the forest in complete darkness. The air began to change and grew faster, humid and oppressing, and a feeling of unease came over him.
“Evfllon, this forest is a dangerous place at night we should set up camp and continue the hike to the temple tomorrow”
Evfllon looked back and listened to his words carefully.
“Well I guess your right there should be a clearing just a few paces more along this path, we shall rest there” Evfllon continued chopping away at the overgrown bramble and began to enjoy this little forest adventure in his own little way, smiling and laughing to himself as he continued ahead.

The clearing was exactly where the priest had stated, it was a small defensive place not nearly enough room for the both of them to sleep, Bramble and other thorn covered plants where crawling their way into the small opening, suffocating it from all surroundings, ready to grow over it and take the space for itself. At least this clearing had hard dry floor unlike the rest of the forest he had travel though, Krigac smiled
“You have been here before old man?”
“Oh yes, this is the way I always travel to the temple” Evfllon placed his bag carefully on the cracked mud. “I just love the wonders of this forest, don’t you?” He added with a sinister grin. Krigac refused to reply and just shook his head in dismay. He raised his head to look at the area to search for any dead wood that could be used; While Evfllon just sat there, in his own world with his own curious look about everything his vision captures. He has no fear of anything, just a bad habit for being too curious. Krigac made his way out of the clearing, chopping up the brambles in his path, looking back and Evfllon who just remained seated always looking around to find something new to manipulate and study. He continued on his search for fire wood, picking up a few dead branches of the floor that had once again turned to wet marsh, it confused him on how only that clearing was dry and how he had never seen this path before, or even seen a Forest Siren for that matter.

A sudden darkness returned to Krigac. He had found enough wood for a small fire but finding his way back was impossible, he had strayed of the new path and had gone further than expected, Deep forestry was all he could see, a memory of his fight with Evfllon returned, the Forest Siren, worse. He kept assuring himself even thou he knew another monster to fight in this forest would not turn out to be friendly. Sethri had taught him all there was to know about tracking, and this time he was going to secure his position. The Forest of Decri is evil at night. The greatest protection the temple has.

Evfllon finally got used to his cramped camp sight. He drew his sword once again and began to polish the unique blade with his dark robe; it began to glow in the blood red aura. Like it contained life, the aura began to pulse around the blade. Evfllon began to mumble to himself then the blade became brighter “I know, I know my road has been long, but, the boy seems too fragile, I don’t think he is ready” Evfllon began talking aloud thou no other person was insight. The ruby handle of his swords slightly shocked Evfllon’s hand, with a slight nod of agreement he put the sword back into its scarab. “May you protect him as you have done me” He sighed as he readjusted his robe.

© 2006 Jason Murdie