[Chapter 5.]

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Alan’s shoulder had sustained a flesh wound during his last kill; using a torn blanket, I quickly helped him staunch the blood and bandage up the wound.  It was still mostly dark outside, but we packed up camp as fast as we could; Alan salvaged about a dozen arrows from the carnage lying about while I put out the smoldering fire. A few more moments found us riding hard away towards the South, leaving the gore strewn valley behind as the rising sun tinted the sky with gold.

 The chill air whipped our faces as we galloped on. With the dawning light the wolves had gone into hiding, and the urgency of our flight subsided. Considering that I’d never left planet earth before, I was fascinated by the new beauty skimming past us. Trees and trees stretched out to the left, dark ones of a variety I’d never seen. Every now and again a deer would lift its head and peer at us through the forest, dropping it again as it continued to munch. We didn’t seem disturb their peace much. I could practically hear the brisk morning air, with the added music of singing birds, running water, and Mudge’s hoofbeats thudding in the green grass.

We rode for hours, on and on until my eyes glazed over and my mind wandered. I didn’t keep track of the time, but it seemed to be hours laters when I was suddenly called back to my senses. We had jerked to a halt in front of a tiny broken down shack. It sat in a green hollow surrounded by forest; vines grew around the tiny building, its clinging leaves wrapping around its rotting wood and almost seeming to suffocate it.  Alan dismounted, and as he helped me off of Mudge a stingy creak was heard as the dilapidated door pushed open and a dwarvish looking sort of fellow came out.

I say dwarvish because he seemed to be almost as wide as he was tall; a red beard hung down upon his chest,  and his big nose and crinkly eyes resembled those of a classic dwarf in my childhood story books. He stumped out of the house towards us, his square toed boots kicking up little clods of soft dirt. “Alan, is that you ma’ boy? Where’ve you been?” “‘Holla, Archie! Didn’t know for sure you’d be here.” Alan answered, removing Mudge’s saddle and patting her on the neck. “Why, who’ve you got with ye?” The man asked, eyeing me suspiciously as he noticed me for the first time. Then, seeing the weariness and pain on our faces his attitude quickly changed. “Nevermind.” he said, offering me his shoulder to lean on, “I can see you’ve both had a rough journey and no mistake. Come, sit down, that’s better.” He had seated me on a worn out cot inside the shack, and was now helping Alan inside. “You look a sight. What got hold of ye? I’ll bet I can guess.” He motioned to the cut on Alan’s face. “We got in a tangle with some wolves down by the fords.” Alan answered. “I take it ye weren’t too friendly with em’?” Archie turned to wink at me. “This one sure wasn’t.” Alan said, nodding in my direction. “I thought she was dead, but when I turned back she was skewering one of the biggest wolves in the pack. You should have seen her face.” He grinned over at me, then winced in pain as Archie loosed the wraps on his shoulder preparatory to cleaning the wound. I had to laugh, but I felt bad for Alan. “You still hurting much?” I asked, peering at the jagged cuts. Sometimes I ask stupid questions. “I’m alright.” Then, to Archie, “She needs food; we've come a long way.” Archie stood up from the bandage he had fixed, stepping back with a nod. “That should hold you for a day or two. You’ll be in working order in no time.” he pronounced with satisfaction. “Now, what do you want to eat? Bacon?” He snatched a plate off the table, upon which steamed a heap of lovely bacon. “I was just frying up some dinner, but there’s more where this came from and that’s sure.” 

A few minutes later and we’d demolished a table full of bacon, eggs, and burnt toast. I was ravenous. Even the eggs tasted good to me, which is saying quite a lot. Archie’s skills as a doctor and a cook seemed to be without limit. What else could he do, I wondered. Our dinner conversation was quite fascinating. “Where’d you pick her up?” Archie had asked with a half grin, watching me as I looked up, embarrassed. And so Alan had detailed our meeting, his fight with the masked assassin, and our subsequent adventures. “It all only means one thing. This is her.” He finished, significantly nodding at me.” “Ohhh. It’s her.” Archie nodded in approval. “I should have known.” They both peered at me over the dimly lit table. Curiosity levels shot through the roof at this point. “Is that supposed to mean something?” I spoke up, shooting a side glance at Alan. “Seems I’m the only one here who has no idea what’s happening.” “You mean you didn’t tell her?” Archie asked, in shock. “What good are ye, boy?” “Well, I didn’t want to....” Alan began, but he suddenly froze mid sentence. We had all heard it. A strange rustling sound had come from the forest behind the house.

[Chapter 4.]

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Remember that wolf I had heard howling in the distance? Well, it didn't quite disappear like nice little wolves in books often do. It was a cruel and unusual wolf. Instead of finding a lonely mountaintop from which he could howl at the moon, he had gone and found some of his friends so that he could go on a little hunting expedition. I think you can guess what happened next.

I was sitting as close to the fire as I could, covered with a thick red blanket; Alan lay asleep on the other side of the fire, stirring fitfully every now and again. He had kept watch and tended the fire earlier while I slept, but now I was taking another turn; he needed his sleep to keep going like he had been. I sat there thinking and listening to the night sounds: wind in the branches, the crackling of the fire, Mudge’s occasional movement in the cave further behind me. There were many many things going on inside my head. But I instantly snapped out of my reverie when I started hearing other noises, noises uncharacteristic of the night. I tried to place them. Then, as the noise drew nearer, it hit me all at once. The confused din sounded like a melee of dangerous animals, fierce and threatening. Wolves. There were no other creatures on earth that could make those sounds. I stiffened with fear, and swallowed hard. This couldn’t be happening, could it? No.

Yes. It was happening, and I didn’t have any more time to think. Instantly I had crossed over to the sleeping Alan, and shaken him awake. “Do you hear them? Wolves. Do you hear? Are they wolves??” “Wolves…” He muttered sleepily, opening his eyes and blinking in the darkness. Then, “Wolves!” he exclaimed, up on his feet in a moment, and rushing for his bow and arrow. “Get back in the cave!” he directed, turning back towards the threatening sounds. It sounded like a hungry wolf pack was fast approaching, heading straight towards us in the darkness. “Here, take these.” He  hurriedly handed me his sword and a dagger. I’d never used a sword before, and this seemed the worst time to start. As I tried to figure out how I was even supposed to hold it, swallowing hard and frightened half to death, Alan stood at the entrance to the cave with the other dagger in his belt, and his bow held up with an arrow to  the string.

This had all come about much faster than it takes to tell it, and much faster still the wolves burst out into the clearing in front of us, eyes green and glowing like coals. We stood behind the fire, hoping that the still glowing coals would discourage them (sometimes plans fail). Alan was firing off arrows before they got within 60 feet of us, and by the sounds issuing from the darkness, it was plain he had hit dead meat.

Now I like dogs. I like them more than most people. But when there are over a dozen of them, and they’re all mangy wolves with devilish eyes and drooling jaws just waiting to sink their teeth into your flesh, they begin to lose their charm. I once wondered if I could ever make myself kill an animal. I surely found out that night. Alan had shot off several arrows with perfect accuracy, but you can’t kill five wolves in a shot; by the time the pack had reached us there were still about nine left.They had seemed to start back as they noted the fate of the leaders in front, but wolves aren’t easily dissuaded from a fresh kill; they hung back in the shadows for a moment, snarling like starving tigers, rustling through the bushes and making my stomach churn with fright. Then, all in one swift movement, they leaped over the fire and into our cave.

Alan was to the left shooting the last of his arrows, and I was in the back of the cave shakily holding my sword as it shimmered in the firelight. While the wolves were still in the distance he had shoved me back behind Mudge. I had taken a breath; then I stood ready, waiting for my one and only chance at a kill before I myself was killed. Adrenaline does crazy things. As the first wolf jumped straight for me, I lunged forward, and with a clean swipe, almost took off its head. I spun around and stabbed another one in the heart, using all my might to thrust the blade deeper. I thought all was over with me then, but the one character I had left out of the equation was Mudge.

As common sense would dictate, she wasn’t standing there calmly letting wolves eat her back. Instead, she’d turned into a ball of hooves and lightning; she had a kick that could knock a giant stone cold, and she sure lit into those wolves. She’d kicked four of them out before I could stagger onto my feet again; I looked over to see Alan wrestling the last wolf to death with the dagger he’d stowed in his belt. When the confusion cleared, nine wolves lay dead on the cave’s stone floor, two by my hand, three by Alan’s, and four by the hooves of Mudge. Looking down at my blood covered hands, I shuddered and  dropped my sword.

 “Are you alright?” A voice broke into my stunned consciousness. “Are you hurt?” I looked up numbly, rooted to the spot upon which I stood. Alan stood in front of me, growing more concerned at my dazed silence; putting his hand on my shoulder, he urged again. “Meredith, I need you to talk to me. Are you hurt?”  “I.. don’t think so.. Did that just happen?” I faltered. My knees felt very weak. “Did that really just happen?” I repeated in disbelief, staring at the dead wolves strewn about the cave floor. One or more of them were still twitching, a ghastly sort of life still present in their scrawny limbs. “Well... what do you think?” Alan asked, then, his sarcasm quickly fading away, “You were very brave.” A look of respect showed on his face. “I thought for sure you were a goner. Did you see what you did to that wolf? You almost took its head clean off! I didn’t know you had it in you.”

It would have been nice if I could have shrugged it off like I was used to such occurrences. But no. A flood of hot relief rushed over me all at once, and, betraying every ounce of willpower I possessed, I melted into tears. Alan was sympathetic, but I could tell he didn’t know what to say. I turned my face away, then, blinking and swallowing hard, I wiped the tears off my face.

 I turned back to him. “You were pretty brave yourself.” I finally responded, looking up at his face. Then, “Are you alright??” I asked in alarm; his forehead was bleeding and his shirt was dyed red, though I couldn’t tell with whose blood. “I’ve been worse. I’ve also been better.” He winced in pain. “I don’t like the sound of that.” I said, unhelpfully.  Alan reached down and wrenched his dagger from the heart of the grisly beast nearby. “Look at his teeth.” I shuddered, gingerly pointing to its mouth; the nasty tongue lolled out over razor sharp canines in an almost humorously morbid manner. Suddenly in the distance the cry of wolves was heard. Alan and I glanced at each other, obviously with the same thought in our minds.  “Let’s get out of here.”

[Chapter 3.]

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My mind was spinning with all that had occurred. I had a thousand questions; I was dying to know who “the dark agents” were, and why on earth they were hunting me. I also wondered who this person behind me was, and where he could have come from.  His hands held the reins on either side of me; somehow, speeding through unknown places on into who-knows-where, I didn’t feel afraid. Compared to him and his calm strength, I felt little and helpless, like a tiny child; but a child who had been made to feel safe, and could now rest in peace. And through it all, this sense of absolute strangeness hung about me. How odd. How completely odd this was! What could possibly happen next? And what could possibly go right? Part of me dreaded the fearful things that must be ahead, and wished to avoid all excitement of any kind. But another part of me, the part that always seemed to get me into trouble, couldn’t wait.

I didn’t have to wait long. Right out from behind a flat-ish hilltop nearby sprang a stream of black horses. They had been lying in wait until we came up, and now pounded helter-skelter in our direction; on the back of each was a rider identical to the attacker who had threatened my life. They charged at us with deadly speed, eyes flashing, faces threatening, weapons raised, whipping through the still air towards us.

In an instant reaction, Mudge sprang hard to the left. She lost her stride for a moment, but, regaining her footing with a free and easy grace, our speed was instantly tripled. Had I thought our pace fast before? We flew now. Up until that moment I hadn’t known the meaning of speed. At the time, all I could do was yell “Faster, faster!” through whitened lips and gritted teeth, but it was quite unnecessary. Before two minutes had passed we left them all in the dust reeling from the race and plunged in failure, the horses’ mouths foaming as they came to a halt far behind us. We sped on, our hearts keeping pace with the drumming beat of hooves.

It would be impossible now to portray the wonder, terror, and curiosity that filled me as we rode on into the hills. Two attempts on my life, and two miraculous escapes? I wondered how I could possibly be the victim of such attempts. Who was this angel behind me, and how had he happened to come just in time to save me? And, just as importantly, where was he taking me? I didn’t dare ask; he had had enough trouble keeping me alive as it was. I tried to assist him in his efforts towards my survival, realizing that I hadn’t breathed for over a minute; slowly I caught my breath, and closed my eyes in an attempt to calm down. And, as surprising as it may seem under the circumstances, my efforts must have been extremely successful, for it wasn’t long before I went to sleep, swaying back and forth to the motion of Mudge’s stride, and leaning almost completely against the shoulder of the boy behind me. The name Alan, as well as Mudge, flitted through my troubled dreams, but my disconnected mind had hardly learned to associate the name with the face of my rescuer.

Alan, Son of Bronyn, was exhausted from three days’ worth of hard riding. He and his horse Mudge had had only a small nod of sleep through it all, and, though both amazingly resilient, neither could go on much longer without a rest. They needed food, sleep, and above all, water. There hadn’t been much of that necessity recently; as you recall, their time spent by the forest’s spring was not conducive to quenching thirst, or filling up water skins. They had had to flee instantly, and, doing so, they left behind the only source of water for miles. Finding water was the first thing to be done, and Alan scoured his mind for the exact location of its nearest source. He knew the streams flowing from Memric Lake were somewhere close by, but the only map he had of this area was a mental one; thinking a bit harder, he soon remembered that the stream was farther to the south, and that, crossing this stream and going straight on for a few miles, you would come to a cliff wall broken by the mouths of many different caves, large and small. His mind was made up. We would come to the stream, fill our water skins, travel along the stream bed for a mile or so, and then circle back to the cliffs. This would throw any pursuers off our trail, and provide us with a safe place to conceal ourselves for the night. I wonder now that he considered any place safe, in that wild territory.

Mudge slowed to a trot as we neared the stream. The choppiness of her new gait jogged me awake, and I looked about me to find that the day was drawing to its close; it was cooler now, and the sun had begun its descent to the west. It had been a long and tiring day, and I was just realizing how terribly thirsty I was when we came over a rise in the ground and looked down below to find what we were all longing for: water. The stream spread out before us, shimmering and snaking its way through the valley, long sedge growing green by its babbling water. We were soon down beside it. Mudge especially had been dying of thirst; she bent down to the water and drank in a way that only a horse can. After we had quenched our thirst and filled our water skins, we mounted up again and rode Mudge slowly and carefully upstream. Then, according to plan, after we had gone about a mile out of our way Alan guided us up the little bank on the other side, and we turned back towards the cliff.

 In less than an hour we arrived at the cliff wall, and soon found a good place to encamp. Alan chose a little cave that was just large enough to shelter us for the night, and just small enough to assure us that nothing besides ourselves was hiding in its unfamiliar recesses. The horse’s saddlebags couldn’t hold much, but the few things we needed were soon laid out. Necessities like matches, our newly filled water skins, a blanket or two, and food in the form of flat cakes, nuts, and a pouch of dried fruit; any other foods would have spoiled. There were two daggers as well, and an extra quiver of arrows for the long bow Alan wore behind him.

We had a running conversation while he made the camp ready, and while I made friends with Mudge (yes, I felt rather useless, but sometimes the truth must be met square in the face: I was). I learned that Alan been charged with bringing me to an important counsel of some sort. My mind was all question marks here. I also learned that the hordes of dark agents lurking about were sent to prevent me from reaching this counsel, which apparently was to be held at some sort of a walled fortress. I asked about the fortress, but learned nothing more than that its walls were impenetrable, and that, if we managed to reach it, we would be safe inside. I didn’t know where this fortress was or whose it was, but all of a sudden I wanted to get there very, very fast.

Soon a fire was built at the mouth of the cave, and just in time too, for the warmth of the day had waned with the sun; the air was chill and nippy. If we’d camped anywhere else we would have been unable to start a fire, but, as Alan carefully explained, in this case we were able because any traces of a fire would be masked by the cliff walls behind us. They towered up to dizzying heights, and prevented the possibility of our smoke being seen at any distance.

We soon sat down to our small meal; it is impossible to describe how good it tasted. They say hunger is the best spice, and they are certainly right; that tiny meal tasted like a king’s banquet to our famished appetites. Alan was selfless and gave me the larger portion. I meant to take the smaller, but somehow, when I saw the food in front of me all my good intentions went out the window; I ate every particle. Afterwards I felt guilty, but tried to justify it to myself by saying that I was girl, and therefore entitled to… more food… It wasn’t working. Oh well.

Sitting there with my back to a rock wall, and a rough and capable yet kind young man tending the fire in front of me, moments from various adventure books I had read started coming into my head. At this point, the man would have started singing, with a soulful, plaintive voice, some old ballad of love and regret. He didn't though. Instead of singing, or talking, or doing anything interesting at all, he sat down a few feet off and closed his eyes. He was much more tired than I was, and needed a moment of rest, but I couldn't help myself. Bursting his silent reverie, I suddenly asked "Can you sing?" "What?" He asked, peering across at me as the firelight flickered on our faces. "Can you sing?" I repeated, a little less imperatively this time. He looked dog tired and slightly confused. "No, I don't sing. I've never been able to hold a tune to save my life. Even if I did, I don't know any songs worth singing."

 Myth destroyed. Apparently I had been wrong in thinking that every half-decent looking boy with a good head of hair could sing well. "Oh. I thought you could." I said. He looked puzzled. Trying to save it, I went on "I mean, you look like the sort of person that would... be able… to sing." My voice faded off. That had sounded strange. And probably awkward. What on earth was he thinking? I looked over at him again, and his face had spread into a sort of half grin. "And what does the sort of person who can sing usually look like?" "Well, I evidently don't have the slightest clue." We both laughed, and lapsed into silence again as a wolf howled in the distance. I warmed my hands at the fire, and by the time I had leaned back against the rock and nestled into my place again, I looked across the fire to see Alan stretched out face down, fast asleep.

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[Chapter 2.]

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Walking forward, it was clear that the sun had just risen in this new place. It was morning, and the birds were singing. The air was sweet, and its smell was new and fresh, like buttercups in a windblown field. I was in a meadow at daybreak, and the deer around me were not afraid. I looked all around me, and saw that behind me was a forest, different from the one I had just left, but even more mysterious. I still held the box and the key, and glancing down at them again I realized that the box contained another piece of paper, which I quickly took out. I read as follows:

 “It is no mischance that you stand where you are. It was fate that led you to that forest, it was fate that showed you to just the right tree, and it was fate that brought you here into this world, at just the right time, to help us find the way. You are not alone.”

I studied the letter, and very quickly those last words hit me: you are not alone. Puzzled, I looked about me again and saw no one. What could it possibly mean? Suddenly a wave of exhaustion hit me; though that new morning had scarcely dawned, I had come from a land where it was still night and I had had none of the much needed sleep that my body was desperately crying out for. I looked around me for a place to lie down. Turning and walking into the forest behind me, I found a stream, and by its side a little pool in which the sun was reflected like a gem. There was a nice little patch of dry grass nearby, and, taking off my coat, I lay down in the sun to rest.

When I woke up, the sun was not much higher in the sky. I didn’t feel rested, but I knew there was no chance of more sleep just then; most of all I was very thirsty. I bent down to the pool beside me and drank deeply. The water was cool and refreshing; I stared into the beautiful ripples. Then, as they cleared, I became aware that in the water’s reflection I could see a pair of strange eyes looking up at me. With a start I turned; seeing nothing, I stared wildly around in all directions, and still found no trace of a stranger. The wild deer were gone, and it was strangely quiet. I was terrified. I knew I had seen someone, but where had he gone? I thought quickly. I had to hide; but where? Looking about me, I started towards a thick clump of trees, thinking I might be safe hiding among them.

Suddenly I heard a swift movement through the trees. Looking up, I saw a sight which terrified me beyond expression. My mind took it all in instantly: a humongous form in a shadowy cape loomed up in front of me; face painted black and wielding a rudely fashioned scimitar, the look on his face was one of cruelty and hatred. He came at me faster than I could think, and with a broad swing of his weapon he aimed straight for my throat.

Then, quick as thought, there was a blur of motion as a sword flashed through the air and came crashing down against the attacker’s steel. A strong young man had jumped out of nowhere, and was battling the dark assassin with daring skill and strength. The match was a fair one, as both contestants were highly skilled at swordplay. The battle seemed uncertain, but the bravery of the one triumphed over the cruelty of the other; soon the struggle ended as the defendant’s sword pierced through the assassin’s cloak, and deep into his heart.

I had started back as the fight began, and was now trembling with fear and shock by a fallen tree; I had never come so close to death. I believe the shock overtook me then, as I watched the assassin shudder and die. His face contorted into awful grimaces, and then, as he breathed his last, his whole body convulsed horribly one last time. The youth pulled his sword out of the twisted limp body, and cleaned it on the grass. Then, with one swift motion of his foot, he pushed the man’s body over onto his face; it slid halfway into the pool of water with a sickening splash. Looking towards me for a moment, he sheathed his sword, and then disappeared. I sat limply on the ground, turning my eyes away from the body in the pool. As I tried to calm my wildly beating heart, the young man appeared again, this time guiding a dark bay horse through the trees.

He was much taller than I, and looked older, probably nineteen or twenty. His hair was dark, and his eyes darker; he had a cleft in his chin and a twinkle in his eye, and walked with confidence and vigor. His face looked kind and firm; he came up to me gently as he said, motioning towards the dead attacker, “I took care of him, I believe. He was sent here to kill you; it’s a wonder I arrived just when I did. I didn’t expect you here so soon. We must leave this place immediately. It isn’t safe to stay.” I was too scared to be puzzled as he helped me up into the saddle. “This is my horse Mudge.” He said, stroking her velvety smooth muzzle.  “But you probably don’t even know who I am.” (He had assumed correctly.) “My name is Alan, son of Bronyn. I was sent to protect you from the dark agents… they are everywhere. They’re hunting you in droves. You are called by the name Meredith, am I right?” I nodded my head in assent. “Well, we better get a move on.”  He smiled at me reassuringly, then mounting the horse right up behind me, he dug his heel into her side and she broke into a gallop.

We sped through the trees and out into the open, leaving the woods behind as the corpse’s blood dyed the clear pool red. The broad daylight was blinding after the forest’s shade; through half-closed eyes I could see a field of golden wheat flashing by, which soon gave way to uneven ground. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I looked up again and saw that all had now faded away but beautiful green rolling hills that stretched as far as the eye could reach. “Mudge must be a racer.” I thought to myself as we galloped up one rise and down the other. We were putting a greater distance between ourselves and the forest with every second.