A Warden Born (The Warden Saga Book 1) Read online

  “He is dead.”

  “Even an immortal,” Mordan said, “cannot grant you this desire. No one in this world can bring back someone from the land of the dead. I can, however, aid you in exacting vengeance on your enemies—and Jonas Kalher’s killers.”

  “I need to think about this. I’ll be back.”

  He watched the shadowy form of Mordan as he backed around the corner and out of the cave, into daylight. Finn breathed easier under the open sky.

  He drank water from the stream and thought about the alp’s offer.

  I don’t trust him. He would suck me dry at the first opportunity. But... I must save Anna.

  Finn crept back down the tunnel to the alp’s prison. It was empty, except for the small lamp.

  “Well, eldon,” said a voice from the shadows. “What is your decision?”

  “I will free you—on one condition,” said Finn.

  “I am listening, eldon.”

  “For one year, you will aid me in any task I request.”

  There was only silence. Finn stared into the darkness beyond the magical lamp. Nothing moved.

  “You are a lot smarter than I gave you credit for,” said the heavily accented voice.

  “Well, alp? What’s your answer?”

  “I have been here for so long, now, that I would agree to almost anything. I agree.” The alp moved out of the darkness and stood on the edge of the lamplight. “Release me, mortal.”

  “I will release you when I am ready.”

  “The sun has risen—I feel it in my blood. Remember your legends, daylight is my enemy. You are quite safe.”

  Finn hesitantly moved forward and picked up the small lamp. Mordan silently stepped back into the darkness and vanished. The eldon walked slowly backward, down the tunnel, holding the lamp with one hand and using the other as his guide on the tunnel wall. The lamplight did not reveal whether the alp followed, but Finn felt cold and knew the alp was close.

  If I stumble now, that alp will tear out my throat.

  After what seemed like forever, Finn felt a cool breeze on his back and realised he was sweating. He moved several yards into the ravine, under the open sky and could just make out the alp’s shape in the dark entrance. Mordan kept in the shadow of the entrance, away from the morning sunlight. The lamp’s small flame went out and it no longer radiated any light.

  That can’t be good.

  “Remember your oath,” he said.

  “I will honour my oath, eldon. So long as you remember not to… try my patience. I have no interest in your petty mortal life, but I will aid you, as promised.”

  Mordan stepped back into the tunnel and vanished from sight. Finn felt oddly safe in the morning sun. He had no weapons, no food, and there was a blood-sucking monster only a few yards from him. The sunlight, however, was his protection.

  The alp is trapped in the cave, until nightfall. That gives me the rest of the day to be as far from this cave as possible.

  He would take the lamp, just in case, and make Mordan help save Anna—so long as the alp didn’t kill him, first.

  Finn limped along the ravine, until he found a low section of the wall. He climbed up its steep surface, and his damaged ankle made the task painful, but the thought of his friend drove him on. At the top, he started the journey back to the bandits’ camp, and to Anna.

  By late afternoon, Finn was miles from the cave and close to the camp. He was sore, exhausted, and needed to rest. He sat down under a tree and his stomach growled in hunger. He was in bad way and in no condition to fight bandits. He planned to sleep for an hour or two, until nightfall, and then sneak into the camp to rescue Anna. It almost sounded too easy, but he knew it wouldn’t be.

  Quickly, weariness took him, and he drifted off into a restless sleep, dreaming of black eyes staring at him in the darkness. He wanted to shout, but his dream-self was paralysed with fear.

  He awoke, unsure of the time, but it was dark. He looked around for signs of danger in the darkness. “Crap!” he shouted with a start. Mordan stood only a few yards from him and watched him silently. “How long have you been there?” asked Finn.

  “Long enough to know you don’t sleep well.”

  “Do you blame me?” Finn edged back from the alp.

  “Relax. If I was going to eat you, you would have been eaten by now.”

  “What do you want?” asked Finn, failing to keep the fear out of his voice.

  “Have you forgotten, already, mortal? I am in your debt. This is something I wish to rectify as quickly as possible. I do not want to be in your presence just as much as you do not want to be in mine. Would you like me to kill your enemy? Then you and I can part forever.” Mordan stood statue-like, his black eyes unreadable.

  “Our… our agreement was for a year.”

  “That is unfortunate. I think you will grow tired of me long before then.” He smiled, which exposed his long, white canines.

  “Relax, mortal. Our agreement makes you safe—for now.”

  Mordan moved a step closer and towered over the prostrated eldon. “I must leave you now, as I am weak from hunger. I will find you in a few days. For now, I have a thirst that must be quenched.” He started to move off into the darkness.

  “Hey! I need your help now!” said Finn. “Not in a few days!”

  Mordan looked amused. “I must feed to regain my strength.” He stared at Finn for a few long moments. “This may help you, until I return.”

  From a fold in his black robe, the alp produced a long, black sword. He skilfully reversed it and handed it to Finn. He hesitated and then gripped the hilt. It felt cold in his hands.

  “You may learn to regret this gift, this sword is its own master. Don’t be weak, mortal, or the sword will kill you.” Mordan released his grip on it.

  Finn turned it over in his hands and admired its weight and balance. He looked up to ask the alp what he meant by his statement, but Mordan was gone.

  I hope I haven’t made a mistake.

  Chapter 13

  The moon was low in the evening sky. His eldon eyes aided his journey in the low light, as he picked out and avoided tree roots, logs, and other hazards. After walking half a mile, he stopped at the top of the eastern side of the valley and gazed out, over the land. The night was dark, except for in the centre of the clearing, where a camp fire blazed. Its warmth beckoned to him.

  Someone’s home.

  He knelt and watched the dark valley for some time. Nothing stirred.

  The bandits should be back, by now. Where are they holding Anna?

  Deep in thought, the young eldon rested his palm on the top of black sword’s hilt. It felt cool to the touch, and strangely reassuring. After a few moments, a plan formed in his mind. He would sneak into the camp and kill them all. He pictured all the bandits dead and bleeding from his sword strikes.

  Wow, not a good idea. Where did that thought come from?

  Finn stood and started to sneak down into the clearing. He approached the camp from the rear of the hut, as it gave him the most cover. Upon reaching the corral, he discovered that both mules, along with the wagon and tents, were gone. Fear gripped his heart.

  They’re gone!

  He pressed his body hard against the back wall of the hut and let out a long breath that he’d been subconsciously holding.

  “Who’s there?”

  Finn crouched down low and looked around. He felt sure that he’d been quiet, and most people couldn’t hear an eldon’s footsteps—especially when they were trying to be silent.

  “Come out, spy. I know you’re there,” said the deep voice calmly.

  Finn looked around, but he couldn’t see where the speaker was. The only light came from the moon and the campfire, and neither revealed the owner of the voice.

  “What’s wrong, spy? You scared? If you want to see that little girl, again, show yourself! She is such a pretty thing.”

  “Keep your hands off her!”

  “Well, well. You do have some spirit,
after all.” An orc stepped out of the darkness and into the firelight. He stood with his massive arms crossed, a cleaver hung from his belt. The orc’s eyes darted about the campsite, trying find Finn.

  He can’t see me.

  Finn could not see anyone else. He decided this orc had been left behind to ambush him.

  If I have to fight, so be it!

  He stepped out from the hut’s shadow and took a few long strides toward the fire. The orc watched Finn come toward him.

  “Greetings, eldon,” said the orc smugly.

  “Where is she?” Finn demanded.

  “Relax, boy. She was alive the last time I saw her. Tharr gave her to Krulta. He thinks she will be a good… present for the master.” The orc’s mocking laugh was more than Finn could take and he stepped forward.

  In a flash, the orc drew his heavy cleaver and waved it at Finn, as though he was scolding a child. “Don’t be hasty to die, eldon. If you turn around and leave, I’ll let you live. The choice is yours.”

  “I have no choice. Where is Anna?”

  “Is that her name? As far as I know, Krulta is taking her to the master. If you want to know more, you better ask him—if you live that long,” he laughed, again. “Well, are you going to live, or die?”

  “I will live,” replied Finn, “but you won’t.”

  He gripped the hilt of the alp’s black sword. It was now warm to the touch, as if it was alive. The dark blade rang as it was drawn from the scabbard, and its fine edge glinted in the moonlight.

  “Where did you get that sword?” asked the orc, wide-eyed.

  Finn did not reply, and instead circled around the fire to face his adversary. He held the sword in a low guard position.

  “Now!” shouted the orc.

  Almost like he was not in control, Finn instinctively reversed the grip on the sword and drove the blade behind him. He felt it strike flesh and cut through bones and organs. With a quick flick of his wrist, the blade was free. It dripped blood onto the ground. Behind him lay the still-twitching corpse of the dwarven cook, gripping a hatchet in his dead hand.

  “How?” asked the orc, staring in disbelief. “That is not possible.”

  With a determined look, Finn took two steps forward. The orc took an involuntary step back.

  “Don’t be hasty, eldon,” said the orc as a distraction, and he swung his cleaver at Finn’s head. With a sideward parry, the eldon deflected the blade and countered with his own thrust. It just missed the orc’s neck.

  “Not bad, eldon,” said the orc confidently. He was a professional soldier and more than capable of defeating a skinny eldon.

  A series of overhead strikes forced Finn backward as he parried each blow. The two locked weapons for a brief moment, as each tried to get the upper hand. They were so close that Finn could smell the orc’s putrid breath.

  They sprang apart and Finn retaliated with his own attacks, the last of which opened up a savage gash across the orc’s thigh.

  “Ar,” the orc cried. “You little—”

  Finn lowered his sword blade and the orc staggered back in obvious pain. An instant later, the orc drove his cleaver at Finn’s heart. The eldon stepped sideways and rotated away from the orc. With a backhanded strike, Finn cleanly decapitated him and the orc’s large head struck the ground several yards away with a dull thud.

  For a moment, Finn stood motionless. He could not believe that he had survived a sword fight—a fight in which people had been killed, and he had done the killing!

  Kalher had shown him and Garm only basic sword play. He would not have thought he had the skill to defeat a professional sellsword.

  How? I am not a swordsman!

  He looked down at the black sword. It was strange, the blade should have been dripping with life fluid, but, in the poor light, the sword appeared to be clean. It was as if it had absorbed the blood. The black blade gleamed under the moonlight.

  He looked at the two dead bodies and his stomach turned. He hadn’t expected it to be like this. He’d never wanted to kill again. Finn knew these were bad men and that they meant to kill him. They even tried to strike him from behind. Still, he had not wanted this to happen. He was not a killer.

  Finn was cold and alone. It felt like the night watched him and judged his actions.

  If this is what it is like to kill, I hope I never have to do it again.

  He looked around the camp and made sure he didn’t walk in the growing pools of blood. There were only two plates and cups near the fire.

  There’s no one else here.

  The sword, still in his hand, was now cool.

  He walked back to the hut door and slowly turned the handle. This time, it wasn’t locked. Finn pushed open the door and expected someone to jump out at him, but the interior was silent. Stepping inside, he saw that the hut contained very few items. There was a small table and two chairs, a bed and straw mattress, a lamp hanging from the ceiling, and a few boxes stacked in a corner. There was nothing of value.

  Finn went back outside to the fire and sheathed the sword. There was food in a pot beside the fire, the bandits’ last meal. Without hesitation, he grabbed a spoon and ate. The meal felt good in his stomach, as it was the first food he had eaten since yesterday. He washed it down with a big gulp of water from a flask.

  After walking up the western slope, Finn located his and Anna’s bedrolls and packs. They were still in the same place they left them, hidden amongst the ferns. He grabbed their gear and headed back down into the camp.

  Now what? I have two choices, go back to town and get help from Treemere’s wardens and Garm, or try to follow them. Where did they go, though?

  “You are so typical of your race. You stand around, wasting the short life you have been granted,” said an accented voice.

  Finn froze and he knew the owner of that voice. It took great physical effort to turn his head. Slowly, he eased his hand onto the sword hilt. It felt cold.

  “Please, mortal, don’t make me kill you. We are getting along so well.” The alp’s laughter echoed around the campsite and sent a shiver up Finn’s spine. The young eldon could not determine the speaker’s location.

  “Where are you? Show yourself.”

  “Why, I am right here.” The voice was behind him.

  He turned quickly and began drawing the sword. The tall alp was barely inches from Finn and towered over him.

  A sharp pain in his hand made Finn let go of the hilt and the black sword slid back into its scabbard. He gripped the back of his hand, it felt wet. Finn looked at Mordan and the alp held up an index finger dripping with the eldon’s blood. Slowly, Mordan licked the blood with a long, reptilian tongue.

  “Why did you do that?” asked Finn, as he looked at the small puncture wound on the back of his hand.

  “I stopped you from making a fatal mistake. You mortals are like small children, you are only capable of learning through pain,” Mordan smiled, showing his long, white canines. “I hope, for your sake, that you are a quick learner.”

  “They have taken Anna. I must find her.”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “I… I am not sure. I have no idea where they have gone.”

  “Ha! Mortals,” sneered Mordan. “How your species survives is one of the mysteries of the universe.”

  “I can either travel back to Treemere or Freewater for help, or—”

  “She will be dead by then,” the alp interrupted.

  “Or try to track them.”

  “Which way? West or east? Or is it north or south?” The tall alp stared at Finn. His pale face revealed no emotions.

  “I guess I will go east?”

  “Good! The girl might live, after all.”

  Finn stared at Mordan, but he could not tell if the alp mocked him. What a great help…

  “I’m sure we can defeat the bandits together and save Anna,” said Finn.

  “No, mortal. I have been hungry for centuries. I need sustenance.”

  Finn stared bl
ankly at Mordan. “What?”

  “You must stop the bandits yourself and free your girl. I will join you in a few days, after I am full.”

  “How will I find them?”

  “They are near the foothills of the Cold Heart Mountains. If you travel northeast, you will come across the Kalteberg Road. Follow it to the east, toward the mountains. You may find unexpected help along the way.”

  “They must be a full day ahead of me. How can I catch them?”

  “They are no more than half a day ahead of you—they travel with a laden wagon. I believe an opportunity to catch them may present itself, but only if you act quickly,” said the alp.

  “How do you know this?”

  Mordan laughed. It was an eerie and unnerving sound. “Because I saw them heading that way earlier tonight.”

  Finn looked at Mordan, but he could not tell if he was lying.

  “Was Anna… alive?”

  “I did not see a woman.”

  “You could have killed them all and saved her.”

  “I am weak, mortal. Not as weak as an eldon, but a dozen bandits might be too much for me, at the moment.”

  Half a day! If I travel all night, I may catch them tomorrow.

  “Thanks, Mordan,” said Finn. “I will gather some food and leave right away.”

  “Remember, mortal, travel northeast and look for help near a bridge,” he paused. “And look after my sword. I will need it soon.”

  “Okay. When will—” Finn had only taken his eyes off Mordan for a moment, but the alp was gone. There was only darkness.

  He gathered what food he could and started off as Mordan had directed. He was born and raised in the north, but the Cold Heart Mountains were new to him. There were many stories of these southern mountains being full of orcs, goblins, and even fouler beings. Most eldon children thought that monster stories were just that, stories. No one he knew had ever seen an alp, and even adults thought they were just myths. The folklore said the only way to kill one was to drive a wooden stake through its heart, or to cut off its head. He didn’t want to find out if the old stories were true.

  Lost in his thoughts, he trudged on through the quiet, deserted countryside. The land was flat and fairly open, so travel was easy. There were only occasional wooded areas. This was prime cattle and sheep country, and nothing moved that night, except for an owl and a few startled cows.