They were walking along the forest floor when Shael suddenly halted. She left her hand out onto Hector’s chest, turning her head and holding a finger skyward to her mouth for silence. She pulled him behind the great trunk of an Elder Tree. They were far from any hollowed tree, away from the arboreal.

“What is it?” Hector whispered as Shael peeked out from the edge of the tree trunk.

“Trolls,” Shael said grimly. “A pack of them. Trolls have poor vision, but should you make a sound they will come for us. We must move quickly before they catch our scent. Stay close.”

Hector remembered the grisly death of the man in the Arena, eaten alive by the ravenous beasts, and shivered with frigid fear. Shael signalled to move. He followed her from tree to tree a score or more feet away, glimpsing the lumbering gait of the ungainly creatures, panting and snarling under the forest’s shade.

They pressed themselves against another tree. The trolls were closer, and the stench of rotten meat sifted through the air. Hector tried not to gag, chin raised as he turned to look at Shael, who shook her head ever so slightly. One troll growled, a low sinister sound that drew the birds calling to a fearful silence.

They’ve found you, Conrad walked by his side, hands clasped behind him.

What do we do? Hector thought frantically.

From what I could glean there are no more than a dozen of them, Conrad Voiced. Calm down Hector. Remember your training.

“They’ve found us,” Shael hissed, and handed Hector her training staff, who stared at it in disbelief. “You must run, by my word. Now!” She took out her bow from her pack and drew an arrow, stepping out from their cover.

A troll wailed and the grunting of the others was followed by the cracks of dried branches splitting underneath their heavy taloned feet. Shael nocked another arrow, and Hector saw when he turned his head that another troll fell, the arrow having pierced its head. Shael ran away from Hector, now wielding her spear.

Run Hector. Conrad appeared by each tree he passed. Even if I take control there is no guarantee you will survive.

“Damn me,” muttered Hector and he stopped and turned back towards Shael. Four lay dead on the forest floor, either by arrow or spearpoint. Six more trolls mottled blackish green and grey gruffed and growled, surrounding Shael, for they possessed enough cunning to do so. The largest troll roared, the leader of the pack, showing two rows of long curving yellowed teeth slick with rancid saliva. Even though hunch backed it stood well past three heads over Shael, akin to an Orrkin. Black diminutive eyes blended with warted skin darker than its brethren.

“Over here!” Hector cried out, forcing himself to yell at the top of his lungs despite every urge in his body to be struck mute. “Over here!”

Some of the trolls turned to face him, and Shael lanced her spear past the open dribbling mouth of one beast before pulling the weapon back with an agonizing squeal from the now dying troll. They focused back onto her and circled to attack. Hector ran full tilt, his staff held behind him. Shael killed another, leaving her spear pointing out from its mouth.

She jumped and landed on its shoulders and leapt once more to land on the ground, drawing out her bow from her back while in mid air. She twisted her body to loose an arrow at the nearest troll’s head, hitting its mark, the monster falling lifeless as it was embedded in its skull.

Hector whacked a troll over the head, drawing its attention, the stave splintering upon impact. Hector drew Baric’s knife and jumped back from the troll’s claws. The ungainly beast was sluggish yet attacked with wild abandon. Hector cut at its long gangly arms but could not get any closer, for with its greater strength a swipe of its sharp black nailed claws would mean a jagged bloody end.

Shael used the trees to block the trolls’ lumbering path, running round and shooting forth arrows at the floundering three monsters, their leader barreling and slamming against a tree as she barely skirted out from its charge.

Hector continued dodging the troll he was facing, ducking and leaning away from its reach.

Allow me, Conrad Voiced beside him before walking past. Hector then felt his limbs act with Conrad’s will, slashing deep through the muscle of the creature’s upper arm with Baric’s knife. The beast wailed, its arm hanging now limp and Hector ducked under the swipe of its other arm and did the same, severing muscle and tendon with swift precision of the short blade.

The monster snarled and lunged forward, seeking to bite off Hector’s face. He smelled its fetid breath even as he sidestepped away and rammed the knife into the back of its bulbous neck, slamming the pommel down with the palm of his other hand. The troll fell face first to the ground and was still.

Hector knelt to pull the knife out, cleaning the blade at both sides with a patch of nearby moss and sheathing it back to its leather belted scabbard. He looked up to the sound; a rabid roar of guttural rage that echoed throughout the trees.

He hurried towards its source. The largest of the trolls was the last standing, arrows sprouting out from its chest and one of its eyes.

Shael had somehow retrieved her spear and brandished it to face the looming beast. She ducked underneath a swiping claw and rose up to impale its head, instead piercing through its other arm that moved to block the strike, tar colored blood dribbled out from its wound.

The creature roared once more and with a backhanded blow sent Shael sprawling to the ground.

Save her! Hector called out in his mind. His legs overtook him, one hand drawing out the knife as he closed the distance between them. The troll raised a jagged nailed hand above Shael, attempting to crawl away in vain. It lashed out, clawing her back, and she screamed in shrill pain.

“No!” Hector cried out, and he felt a surge of heat pour through his body and inflame his mind. Power that ignited from his core, seeking to escape and be released. He reached out to the monster as it raised its arms for the kill.

A wave of energy pulsed out from his hand, blurring the air in its path. The troll balked at the hum of power before it was thrown so suddenly and with such force the sharp snapping of bone cracked against the unyielding trunk of an Elder Tree.

The monster whimpered as Hector sprinted towards its now broken body. He stepped away as it feebly lashed out and dashed forward to plunge and twist his knife into the creature’s eye. The last of the trolls was then still. Conrad wiped the knife clean on Hector’s sleeve and knelt to Shael.

Will she live? Hector thought.

The cuts on her back glistened dark red past her leather tunic, skin gaping open in four grisly strokes.

She has multiple deep lacerations, Conrad Voiced. He clutched Shael by the neck and legs to carry her. She was still, eyes shut, grimacing in pain. She needs the suns’ light to heal, and quickly. You must fly back to the arboreal.

How? Hector thought pitifully. Why not make me?

Conrad materialized before him, shaking his head. I can control your movements when in combat, but not the range of your telekinetic and telepathic abilities. Focus, Hector. If you do not act soon she will die.

Hector exhaled and inhaled deeply, remembering the training Shael had taught in clearing his mind. There was a serene calm after all the death that had befallen in the past few moments. He opened his eyes and found his feet floating inches above the ground.

Good, Conrad said in his mind. Now look to where you wish to go.

Hector looked skyward and rose, gaining speed as he was lifted higher up. He flew round and over branches thick as sapling trunks, then reached the dense green canopy. Without thought he and Shael were enclosed in a formless shield of hazy force that bent back the smaller leafed branches from brushing past their bodies.

Suns’ light hit Hector’s sight. Whereas before it was harsh now was soft, and Hector gazed at the orange amber outlined suns without being blinded by their radiance. He surveyed the endless landscape of green leaves, turning to every side with Shael in his arms. He found that above the dense canopy grew oval petalled flowers over a man’s arms span wide, ranging from yellow to orange to turquoise to purple in color. Distant Odigwe soared and fed from these flowers with their narrowly curved long beaks.

“Damnit Conrad!” Hector snapped. “Where do I go back?”

Head to your left and continue, Conrad intoned.

The world seemed very small then as he sped through the air. He lost track of distance, yet despite his furious flight he and Shael were protected by the force that continued to envelope them from the opposing winds, howling bitterly for entrance.

Stop, Conrad suddenly Voiced. Get to an open hollow. Hector recognized the treetops that were home to the tamed Odigwe, their nests now empty. Hector landed lightly down an open tree onto its flatly grown floor. A naked vanni save for his undergarment stood up from his cross legged meditation.

“Get Elder Muriel,” Hector spoke in Draiell, the still unfamiliar flowing language awkward to utter. “She needs healing.”

The vanni nodded and hurried out.

Lay her facedown, Conrad instructed him. Strip her. Her body needs every ray of suns’ light to heal.

Hector sheared off her thick leather jerkin with his knife and pulled off her boots, cutting through the center of her leather leggings, leaving on her undergarment that stopped to her thighs. He threw away the tattered ribbons of her clothing in a pile and rested against the circular wall. He looked upwards and breathed out softly, a thin ragged cloud coming to view. Shael remained still, head to one side, an arm splayed over her head and the other bent under as if she were fast asleep.

After several moments in agonizing wait, Muriel appeared through the mossed entrance, a strung up leather roll cradled in an arm.

“What happened?” She asked as she knelt down and pressed her two forefront fingers to Shael’s neck.

“We were attacked by a pack of trolls,” he said.

The Elder shook her head. “It was foolish of you both to stray so far from the arboreal.” Muriel tied Shael’s hair into a bun so that it would not touch her back and produced a small closed wooden vessel with an interlocked lid, sliding it open to gather a thick light greenish paste with a flattened wooden spoon. The scent of fermented mint burned the air.

“Hold her arms down,” Muriel ordered. Hector rose up with hesitance. “Put this leather in her mouth.”

Muriel covered over her wounds with the thick paste, and Shael bucked and cried out as if the greenish pulp was searing her body. The paste dissolved, bubbling into her skin and open cuts. Hector struggled to restrain her, for though the sylf’s frame was slender it was muscled lean of strength. Muriel held her legs down by the ankles, until she weakened and moaned in dull suffering.

The Elder then tied her long white hair in a bun and unrolled the flat leather sheet holding several pale bone instruments in its many pouches. She produced a needle along with thin twine. Muriel bent over to stitch the deep diagonal cuts with practiced swiftness, cutting off the ends with a bone bladed instrument. When she was done Hector asked, “Will she live?”

Muriel nodded, “She will. She must stay here until the light of Heli and Oss have healed her. You both have faced much this day. No doubt you wish to watch over her. I shall bring you both the first meal.” With that she turned to leave Hector and Shael alone.

“You should have run,” Shael now sat up cross legged, back painfully straight, basking in the light that fell down her side of the hollow.

“Maybe I should have,” Hector kept his gaze focused on her golden eyes, away from her bare chest. “But then you’d be dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Shael looked away.

“For what?”

“For calling you a shivardthei,” she said testily, then her voice softened. “I thought you were weak. You have a warrior’s heart, and face fear in the eye.”

She paused, then snapped, “And foolishly so. You risk not only your own life, but also yours and my people’s future. You say you will bridge our peoples in peace. Prove you will, by surviving this world.”

Shael winced following her words, and finally said, “Hector. Thank you.”

He nodded in kind, “I owe you my life, and much more.”

After a time Muriel returned bearing a basket of foods and a covering for Shael to wear. Celdan appeared shortly after.

“I heard you were training outside the arboreal,” he spoke cooly. “Perhaps this shall humble you, Spearhand of the Elkin. And you have learned Hector, one of the many dangers which lurks within this forest. The judgement of Vath treats all life equal in his balance. I also heard you flew here, Hector. Is this true?”

Hector nodded, “I ascended when a troll attacked Shael. It couldn’t have been a second later.”

“The ascension to magehood naturally occurs when one is under heightened pain, or emotion. Seeing as how you weren’t under attack, it must have been the latter,” Celdan said with a verdant twinkle in his eye. “Did you use kinesis on the troll?”

“I… pushed the troll back, if that is what you ask,” Hector said with uncertainty.

“Hmmm. A greater Gift in force at the very least,” Celdan explained. “Eternals pass on the Gift of Immortality to their children, but not the other Gifts. You are lucky, my boy. Very lucky indeed. All mages with the Gift of force have their limit. When you ascend, you experience the full ability of your Gifts, if for a short time. Then you must learn to master your Gifts. That is what the Academy trains you to do. Unfortunately we do not have the years needed for such training.”

“What then?” Hector asked.

“Nothing. You are but one mage, Hector. You play a part in what comes after this war. I will call for the other Elders. Stay and keep company with Shael, I will let you know when the time has come.”

And then he was gone, flying out from the open hollow.

“Wait!” Hector called after him, then turned to Muriel. “What does he mean, ‘when the time has come?’”

“The Tribunal has not been called for near a century,” Muriel answered. “It is gathered in times of turning points for our people. Now, we Elders of the five Tribes shall decide alongside the chieftains whether we shall fight for your cause. The process may take days. It is beyond your hands now, Hector. All we can do is wait.”

Hector gestured his arms out in exasperation, “I’m kept in the dark once more then.”

“This will come to pass, Celdan and I shall make sure that the sylven will act. Rest and eat with Shael. I must join the Tribunal.”

Hector sat down beside Shael, turning the wooden lid of his container to reveal a thin brown broth, chunks of unknown meat bobbing to the bubbled surface. He scooped his meal out with a ladle, as did Shael.

“Celdan is right,” she said after a time. “It is in the Elders’ and chieftains’ hands now. They will decide whether to aid you.”

“And will they?”

“What choice do we have?” Shael answered. “Your kind will not leave this forest untouched. We will defend the remaining land we have with our lives. But the time for waiting is over. No, they will aid you Hector. How they will, I do not know.” She gave a weary sigh. “Even if I am injured, you must still continue your training. Show me your Ro et Rav.”

Hector stood up and clapped his hands together, fingers pointed skyward, and made ready for war. For war it seemed was coming, and soon.