Anchorite and the The Heart of Effie. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX. AHLISE

In the fightplace Alpin could not participate for one simple reason: the boy had the blood of a wizard, and one day something inexplicable happened, an outbreak of magic abilities, when still very small Alpin laid a two-meter strong man out. Of course, it was only once and the strange case was long forgotten by everybody, but it was difficult to predict something like this, so many years ago Geodor and Alpin agreed that the boy would avoid provocations anyway. Since then, Alpin has avoided participation in fights and has not been very upset about it, and if he wanted to wave his fists, he preferred only to fight with his shadow.
On the way to the square Alpin suddenly realized how strange and terrible was in the words of this uninvited foreigner. War. What did he, a thirteen-year-old boy, know about that word? What of those scary tales that the local gossips used to tell each other could be true? Alpin was confused about his own thoughts, and now he needed to see his friends. They would help to sort it out. Always helped.
The fightplace is not as crowded as usual today. The ground for hand-to-hand combat was fenced with wooden planks folded into a fence, creating almost a perfect square, on the edges of which all who found leisure in the afternoon were gathered. The sky was cloudy, and there was a pleasant coolness. The fightplace was about a ten-minute walk from Alpin house, so the boy reached the meeting point quickly.
Here, as usual, there was very noisy. Already on the approach, screams and hooting of onlookers began to be heard. Aywa stood at the wooden partition and watched with exciting excitement as two tall men brandished fake weapons, grappling in a fight. The first of them - Krauser, a childhood friend of Alpin, a strong young man, just two years older, but already very similar in appearance to a mature man. He had black, disheveled hair, sharp facial features, in which it was difficult at first glance to see something pleasant. Krauser fought from an early age (he had no mother, and his father was hardly of good temper, livability and unselfish help and care). As a child, the boy suffered beatings from his father, often running away from home for this reason. The street raised him to be an independent, though somewhat impulsive, young man. However, after such a bleak childhood, Krauser still did not leave his old father as he could, cared for him, even had a peculiar respect, although the relationship in this family was difficult to call perfect.
Krauser befriended Alpin about six years ago when two boys got into a big fight over some childish nonsense. Then, of course, they hated each other, they thought so. The fight, thank the gods, never came. Later the communication grew into interest. The guys often went to the fightplace, finding this place the most interesting in Bryson Hill. There the guys met Aywa. She often came to see the fights, and one day it turned out that the girl herself was good at fighting. Aywa was a year younger than Alpin.
Today, hand-to-hand combat was replaced by a battle on wooden swords, which although did not have a sharp blade, but were heavy and could beat hard. This type of weapon was very unusual for fightplace, but in fact the fighters did not care what to fight with: they went into battle of their own free will, and each weighed his chances of victory. Krauser easily put down the son of the local tavern keeper. He fought well, but inferior to Krauser in endurance. The fight ended when Krauser, with a blow to his legs, pushed the enemy on his stomach and jammed his hand. The tavern keeper’s son, realizing that it was time to end the apparently losing bout, beat his fist on the ground.
'Good as always, eh?' said Alpin softly. 'Our champion.'
He came up unnoticed, standing next to a friend.
'I thought you'd be here in time,' shrugged Aywa, glancing at Alpin. 'No one doubted Krauser would come out victorious. The son of Graus must have overestimated his powers. That would be a lesson to him. How about you? Don’t you want to try it today, huh?'
Aywa grinned playfully and then rose her hands and was clapping her hands to the winner. Camron Graus, his opponent, had already risen to his feet and was shaking Krauser’s hand with respect. They both bled their lips, had bruises on them, but the boys didn’t pay any attention to it and seemed happy. Krauser knew that he was stronger than many, but he never put himself above the rest: he was not about arrogance, so he always treated his opponents with tolerant respect.
'I’m not fighting, you know,' said Alpin, who caught his friend’s eye and nodded approvingly. 'Besides, we already have a fightplace star. And who would dare challenge his primacy.  I was delayed because my father had just been visited by his old friend. Unexpected friend.'
'Not from around here?' Aywa wondered.
It was justified: for many kilometers from Bryson Hill there was not a single city, so said the self-proclaimed experts, so it was difficult to imagine a visitor from afar in these parts. Now Alpin wanted to quickly wait for Krauser and have a moment with his friends, to talk, to discuss the things that tormented his soul.
'This man brought with him some bad news. We need to talk. I’d like the three of us to go to the meadow now. I hope Krauser beat everyone he wanted tonight. I'm not very patient at the moment.'
'So now you ask him yourself,' said Aywa, watching Krauser approach his friends, wiping blood from his forehead.
'Another victory,' said the girl delightfully.
Krauser just smiled. With a skillful jump he moved beyond the fence. Alpin shook his hand.
'Is everything okay?' Krauser asked.
'No. Not all right. There’s talk. Serious one.'
With a nod of his head Alpin called his friends to follow him. Aywa and Krauser glanced at each other in perplexity: they had not seen Alpin so serious very often. All three set off on a road leading to the exit of the village, outside which their secret place was located.
It was a sunny day, but it was not hot, and a light breeze gently caressed the skin. Thick and soft grass with green carpet invited the trinity to settle comfortably in the shade of a huge branched tree with so thick trunk that it would need at least a dozen adults to wrap their arms around it. This was the secret place of Alpine, Krauser and Aywa: here friends spent time when they wanted to escape from people’s eyes and enjoy the peace and sounds of nature.
Alpin sat down between Aywa and Krauser, and they waited impatiently for the details. By the way, the guys were more interested than worried. Alpin briefly described the situation to his friends, he told about an old childhood friend of his father. Of course, all the details could not be shared, but overall, Aywa and Krauser understood the whole situation as much as possible.
'That’s why,' Alpin finished, 'so I’m afraid. My father responded last time without any reservations. He left the village. Now the same can happen. This foreigner calls himself king! However, does that give him the right to decide a man’s fate? Father will not leave Bryson Hill, I am sure. My mother’s death was too hard for him.'
'In that case, are you sure you should be worried?' Krauser tried to calm his friend Krauser: he patted him on the shoulder and put his arm around him. 'Your father is a grown man. He has something to lose.'
'Yes, I think so too,' said Alpin honestly, smiling, but as if through strength. 'But this «king» just appeared, as if from nowhere, so suddenly. I am in a confusion, you know. Everything was too good and quiet. Too calm...'
'Krauser’s right,' said Aywa, looking into Alpin’s eyes. ‘Look, if you’re so worried, if you’re not convinced that your father will make the right choice, you should relax for now. Even if Geodor decides to start this adventure, he couldn't leave without saying goodbye. So in an emergency, we can always remind him of the reasons why he mustn't do it.'
'That’s what I said,' shrugged Alpin. 'I’m sure about dad. I rather just don't know what to expect from this stranger. I guess all this is too unpredictable from the side of this king.'
'Is he still in the village?' Aywa asked.
'After the conversation he left. Father invited him to the tavern in the afternoon, but he received no direct answer,' said Alpin.
'I think you’re just escalating it,' said Aywa, either to calm her friend down, or because she thought this way seriously. ‘Everyone in the village knows each other. And he, king or not, is still a foreigner. He will not harm anyone. And if he does try, as you said, Krauser - the local champion. We'll stand for ourselves and for Bryson Hill, we are able if necessary.'
'Oh, there you go!' said Krauser. 'Just gold words.'
Alpin was pressing his lips. He really wanted to finally tell his friends about who made actually the safety and peace of Bryson Hill, about how his father’s magic has protected every villager all these years. But the oath of silence restrained him. Looking at Aywa and Krauser, the boy realized that if his father did leave Bryson Hill, his serene life could end at any moment. Cold sweat came on his forehead - Alpin wiped him with his shirtsleeve. He tried to focus on the words of his friends.
During the day Mr. Graus's tavern had very few people: a few regulars, local drunkards, generally harmless, who argued heatedly over a glass of ale about something, old Mr. Poltus, a farmer from the outskirts of the village, who lived alone and, judging by his appearance, suffering from incurable longing, and a pretty girl that carried drinks. She had red, curly, unruly hair and outstanding curvaceous body shapes. It was dark in the tavern, as usual: only a few candelabras with candles served as sources of light here. There was a smell of fresh pastries in the air, and somewhere in a far dark corner, sitting on an old down pillow, a local bard with a wooden ukulele in his hands was quietly humming an indistinct but lovely song. All this atmosphere usually put in peace and serenity, which attracted many residents of Bryson Hill here in the evening after exhausting everyday troubles. However, Alpin and his friends rarely visited this place, preferring the meadow near the tree.
Today promised to be fun and noisy. Mr. Graus was celebrating his fiftieth birthday and in honor of this he was going to arrange a big feast for the whole village. Therefore, in the afternoon, slowly but surely, both old and young began to gather in the tavern: among them were both friends and comrades of the hero of the occasion, as well as simple drunkards who were not against free treats and ale.
The the same curly-haired girl in an apron on top of her skirt and a beige bonnet barely hanging from her unruly hair came up to the table of three friends. Her name was Chellah, and she was definitely in love with Krauser, and had been for a long time, because every time he came to Mr. Grouse's tavern, she showed attention in every possible way, sometimes even flirted without any embarrassment. And now she put three large mugs of ale on the table, adding playfully that the first portions were on the house. Krauser treated Chellah with sensitive understanding, but did not give false hope. At this stage of his life, the boy was more interested in fights on it than in female attention and intrigue. Aywa and Alpin were in the know and never tired of reminding Krauser to finally explain to Chellah so that she would stop being so persistent. However, Krauser was in no hurry to finish these games, and he did not explain why.
During a light, casual conversation, time flew by like an arrow shot from a tight bowstring. The people kept coming and coming, the apple had nowhere to fall. Soon Alpin's father appeared on the threshold of the tavern, but, oddly enough, he did not join his son's company, he only waved his hand, had caught his son's gaze on him, and went to a far table, accompanied by that very foreigner, King Primus, who, apparently, still hadn't left Bryson Hill after an unpleasant day's conversation. A chill ran down Alpin's back, as if an unexpected jet of icy water had splashed onto his skin. The guy definitely did not like the company in which his father spent the evening.
'He brought the stranger with him... I can't stand it!' the young man said and took a sip of ale. Today, this drink seemed to him more delicious than ever.
'Who brought who?' Krauser asked in bewilderment, tearing his eyes away from Chellah, who, standing by the iron tin, was actively giving him signs with her hands.
'Father. He came with this King Primus. Why did he bring him here?' Alpin was indignant, feeling, by the way, not only anxiety, but also jealousy.
'Well, he did it, that's it,' Aywa waved her hand. 'Do not boil and relax.'
'Maybe we should invite them to our table?' suggested Krauser, looking at the gloomy hall of the tavern. 'Where are they anyway? I don't see...'
'This is a bad idea,' Aywa shook her head, looking at Alpin intently and noticing that her friend was visibly tense. 'If they are old friends, then they have many things to talk about. And there is nothing wrong with that: your father will not leave you or the village tonight.'
'They went to the far tables,' Alpin pointed to a dark corner with his finger. 'And I agree with Aywa. If I join their company now, I will spoil the evening for myself and for them. I'd rather be with you.'
'Listen,' Aywa smiled, deliberately changing the topic of conversation. 'You both, invite Chellah to dance finally, otherwise she will not calm down.'
Indeed, the curly-haired girl actively imitated a ridiculous dance with an invisible partner, throwing unambiguous glances towards the table of three friends. Friends did not have time to blink an eye, as the people in the tavern noticeably increased, and Mr. Graus went to the center of the hall to greet the guests, and announced that today all the drinks would be at the expense of the establishment. By the reaction of the guests, it could be assumed that it was in anticipation of such news that they came here. Nevertheless, this did not surprise anyone, but even amused. Mr. Graus announced fun and dancing - and at the same moment, three bards started to play a cheerful tune, singing a simple song that resembled endless ditties with humorous overtones. Chellah finally got Krauser to dance, and frankly, he was quite clumsy in it. Krauser's absurd and hilarious attempts to dance to the beat of the music cheered Aywa and Alpin up.
'Try to make it better, smarties!' Krauser shouted to his friends, inviting them into the crowd of excited guests.
The challenge was accepted. Alpin extended his hand to Aywa in a very gentlemanly way and invited her to dance. The fast pace of the music made it possible for people to move actively, and Alpin, unlike Krauser and many other guests, was quite good at dancing: somewhere in the past his mother taught him several simple but plausible steps. Disturbing thoughts disappeared in some fun for this time, and the soul sincerely rejoiced at the holiday.
When the music subsided a little, the friends returned to the table. Chellah brought more ale and, after short kiss to Krauser, she blushed, and the blush was visible even in the dim light. Then, somehow even silly giggling, hastened to serve the rest of the guests. Krauser, grinned, took a greedy sip of his drink and collapsed in his chair, resting from the exhausting dance.
'Well, are you getting married tomorrow?' Aywa laughed, poking Krauser in the side with her elbow. 'You looked as if you were at the same moment ready to finally confess your love to each other. Did your heart somehow jump and you crushed on her?'
'If you say another word, I’ll decide that you are jealous,' Krauser answered and was ready to bet that he noticed a shadow of embarrassment on the girl’s face.
'I liked it, this is real fun!' Alpin concluded. 'We haven't had this much fun in a long time. You were right Aywa. There is no reason to worry while the night is young and our time is here, now.
'Drink another mug, Alpin, don't be shy,' Krauser grinned. 'You become more cheerful and perky when ale plays in your veins.'
Alpin breathed a sigh of relief: his father had evidently driven the stranger away. He was sitting at the table, but not in the company of King Prime, but with the drunks of the area, who were so passionate about something. Life will return to its usual course again, and anyone who intends to bring discord and excitement into it will be neutralized at the same second. The young man looked at the clear smiles of his dear friends, thought that these are the moments of serene happiness that can only fall on the fate of a commoner.
As the next mugs of ale were emptied, Krauser suddenly agreed with Alpin and expressed a desire to perform another dance, and the blush played on his cheeks even more than before. He invited Aywa this time. The girl did not refuse. And they both left their friend alone at the table, who just sat and watched the crazy dance of this funny couple.
Some time later, Mr. Poltus sat down at Alpin's table. He was, as usual, dressed in a tight caftan, clearly out of size, old and shabby. His colorless eyes, pale wrinkled skin and gray matted hair on his head and in a long beard made this elderly man look like a living dead. Mr. Poltus was one of the oldest residents of Bryson Hill, but in spite of this, few people interacted with him. Basically, because of his intimidating appearance, unsociableness and, frankly, nasty character: the old man himself was not eager to get in touch with anyone. It was rumored that he became like this after he lost his family (according to rumors, this happened even before the Arvuses settled in Bryson Hill), but no one knew for sure, only conflicting gossip circulated. Alpin made a timid attempt to find out what was going on, but this strange man did not let him say even half a word, turning directly to the young man, insistently and even somehow aggressively.
'It was a conspiracy. A big, well-thought-out trap to take your father out of the game. They know everything, now - for sure! You need to leave the village immediately! Better right now. If we are all doomed, then at least you have a chance!'
Alpin didn't even know what to say to that and just opened his mouth in surprise. Mr. Poltus once again lived up to his reputation as a demented old man. Indeed, he looked insane, chattering as if someone had given him a strictly limited time to say all this nonsense.
'No one will tell you the truth, Alpin! Nobody! Just like no one could find our village. You know as well as I do how much effort Geodor made to hide Bryson Hill for so many years in a row!'
Alpin shuddered. Now he was afraid.
'How…' he hissed in disbelief. 'How, in the name of hell, did you know about this?'
'There will come a time when strange things will start to happen to you. The moment is near, much closer than you think. And here you are the easiest to find. The enemy will know where to look for you. The sooner you leave Bryson Hill, the…'
'How do you know that my father is protecting the village?' Alpin said starting to get angry. 'I've already asked twice!'
'Well, what point are you asking here? How do I know this?! How do I know that?! I know more than all of you put together, only my knowledge will not help you if you sit here and do nothing! In the end, do you want to stay alive or die like a back-alley dog? Take your friends, if you cannot live without them, and you leave before it's too late. Go south to the Elven forests. Find Taurebeleg there, he is the Enchanted forest king. He will help when he finds out who you are.'
'All this is nonsense,' Alpin grumbled, realizing that he had just taken seriously the delirium of a half-witted drunkard. 'What escape? What elves? Are you out of your mind? Go home, Mr. Poltus. You shouldn't drink anymore.'
However, the old man did not let up. Grabbing Alpin by the wrist, he continued his avalanche of words.
'I'm the oldest resident of Bryson Hill. I know how to see, and I see a lot, believe me, my unbeliever friend. I know your family's secrets, Alpin. Where it came from is a long story, and right now it doesn't really matter. The appearance of a stranger in our village is a very disturbing sign. This means that the protection is no longer valid.'
'His friend came to visit his father. He probably knew the location...'
Mr. Poltus' face has been distorted by a grimace of pent-up anger…
'So, King Embry, the great Primus himself, being an important figure, and even at an advanced age, reached a point so far from the royal capital on foot? Without horses, carriages, royal escort? Do you really understand what the word "king" means, how royal people are guarded? Primus arrived alone, without even a horse. How do you think he even got to Bryson Hill? Are you so foolish, you don't realize that?’
'You want to say...' whispered Alpin. He cramped and rubbed his hands..
Old Poltus said seemingly obvious things, but why didn't Alpin think of this himself? And now the young man, in addition to fear, also felt like a complete fool.
'It wasn't Primus, but someone who appeared here with the help of magic. Someone who had to disguise himself as an old friend of your father. They found us. Something stronger dispelled your father's magic. In the veins of Geodor flows the blood of an ancient family of magicians and witches Zirunderelle. A child born from a magician receives a gift, but he sleeps exactly until the moment when the parent leaves for the World of Shadows. As soon as your father dies, you will start doing all sorts of magical things, unconsciously. You will have to learn to control magic. No one knows how long the training will last. The time that can be fatal for you unless you use it wisely. They will find you.'
'Why did these strangers need my father and me?' Alpin asked, looking anxiously at his friends having fun to the music.
'You will become a real threat to them, but at the same time, their victory and omnipotence will be hidden in you as a result. Of course, sooner or later the enemy will still find out who you are and where you are, but it is better that this happens as late as possible and certainly not in Bryson Hill. Go to the forests of the Elves, I told you. King Taurebeleg, having learned who you are, will surely accept you and even your friends into his domain. He will be able to explain to you a million times better than I can the whole essence of your being, Alpin. Elves are also magical creatures. They will teach you how to use magic and control it.'
Mr. Poltus finished his ale and, leaving the mug on the table, stood up, placing his hand loudly on the table in front of Alpin, under which was a compass with a beautiful and skillful engraving.
'Me, Bryson Hill, even your father, cannot be saved. But you are more important than all of us, you are Geodor’s heir and the bearer of great power. All you have to do is buy some time. Take the advice of an old man. Run.'
After that, without uttering another single word, he walked with a limp gait to the exit from the tavern. Alpin did not stop him. He shifted his gaze to the little thing that the old man Poltus left and for some reason decided to accept the gift, although the young man still could not fully believe in the seriousness of all the statements that just shook the air.
It became quite quiet. The music disappeared, as if it had never been in this tavern. The people around have turned into blurs. It seemed that even the crickets had ceased to crackle in the street, having evaporated, the light wind had completely disappeared, taking with it the rustling of the crowns of garden trees and the creaking of a gate poorly fixed on rusty hinges, the muffled voices of local drunkards, who had drunk ale in a tavern and fell asleep, as usual, in one of the ditches near the nearest fence, fell silent. The world suddenly froze and time stopped. Alpin did not even hear the sound of his own breathing.
Something very unexpected and strange was happening. A huge cloud, white as milk, began to cover Bryson Hill in a matter of seconds. At first it spread along the ground, but then it began to slowly grow upwards, filling everything around, penetrating from the street into the interior of the tavern and quickly covering all around. Unable to understand anything, Alpin clutched Mr. Poltus’s gift, getting up from the table and groping, trying to move: it was very white and quiet..
'Father! Aywa! Krauser!' the young man yelled, moving like a blind pup.
The white fog had already filled all the surroundings, becoming so all-consuming that it was impossible to see anything beyond the outstretched hand.
'What's happening?' Ava exclaimed, grabbing Krauser's arm, who was also stunned. Fortunately, Alpin saw friends. They stood in horror, huddled together, and were clearly glad the Alpin had found them in this strange fog.
'We must find our father and save ourselves. We must get out of Bryson Hill now!' cried Alpin, blaming himself for not believing Mr. Poltus' at once.
Then everything happened so suddenly that there would not have been enough time to even take a few steps: the legs were off the ground, and the feet were pulled up, as if an invisible hand had turned the bodies of friends, hanging them upside down. Aywa screamed, clutching Krauser's arm even tighter. Continuing to hang in the air, at first the friends simply looked at each other, trying to understand the incident. A little later, Alpin wanted to address the guys, but instead of a voice, only a barely audible sound escaped from his throat. Aywa and Krauser also tried unsuccessfully to utter a word, but their mouths just opened silently.
Alpin watched in horror as the mouths of his friends gradually began to fade from their faces, as if overgrown with skin. From the sudden smell of rot, his eyes hurt, head was spinning and eyes darkened because the blood beat in his head. Realizing that something had to be done, Alpin tried to move around in space. Oddly enough, swinging in the air, he was able to move, as if he was in a huge body of water upside down. Making oscillatory movements with his body and synchronously waving his arms, Alpin resembled a flying bird. In contrast, Aywa and Krauser seemed to be lost their strength: the guys hung in the air like puppets, showing no signs of life.
Not only the mouth disappeared from their faces, but also the eyes, the nose - they lost their faces, and the spectacle turned out to be indescribably creepy. However, Alpin continued to see. He felt his face and made sure that the nose, eyes and mouth were in their usual place.
Everything finally quieted down. The blood rushed back to his head in a powerful jolt, and a sudden heat engulfed his body, as if Alpin had been lowered into a wild flame of fire. The boy felt pain like he had never known before. Every cell in his body tensed from unbearable torment. There was a loud scream - Alpin collapsed to the ground. He grabbed his throat with his hands: it was difficult even to breathe. No, it definitely wasn't a dream. Aywa and Krauser were still hanging upside down, motionless. Are they alive?
They truly looked like the dead. Their skin turned pale, and their faces, deprived of human and in general any features, inspired cold horror. Alpin grabbed the icy hands of his friends and literally dragged them along. Only one thought confidently beat in his head: the whole trouble is in this strange fog, from which you need to get out as quickly as possible.
Alpin just walked forward. His body was still aching with pain, burning, ready to explode at any moment. However, he could not afford to give up: clenching his teeth, he went at all costs. Somewhere, after all, this strange fog had to end...
After walking many paces, Alpin did not even notice at first that he had not come across any people, tables or the walls of the tavern, as though everything around him, except three friends, had vanished into mist as it never exist.
It must have been an eternity. Sometimes Alpin turned to Aywa and Krauser, hoping with all his heart that his friends would come to their senses, wake up. Obviously, Alpin was more fortunate for some reason than the friends who continued to hang in the air like puppets. The fog had no effect on him.
As a result, the pain grew to such an extent that it simply became impossible to endure. Alpin felt that he would definitely not last long. Another step, and another step. The next one will definitely be the last one. The journey was so short. And life flew by in a moment: childhood, father and mother are together again, like in the good old days, a fire is burning in the oven, brushwood is crackling, on the table there is fragrant mint tea, three mugs, mother sings a beautiful melody in with a thin angel voice...