Blackgrave

The forest north of Witchbane Keep was full of ancient willow trees that stretched high into the sky. Sun broke through where branches would allow and shone upon small beds of blue and purple petaled flowers.

“Do you know what these are?” Gremmelt asked as they stopped.

Eija knelt down beside the flowers and examined them carefully. I know this. Come on, Eija, you know this. You read the book, you wrote it down. Now just remember! Eija closed his eyes and screamed in his head. He let out a deep sigh and half closed his eyes before reaching into his bag and grabbing his notebook. He scanned the page.

“Witchbane.”

Lord Gremmelt knelt down beside the flowers and pulled out his dagger.

“Good. Now, tell me some of its uses.” He cut the flowers at their stem, carefully collecting them in a pouch.

“Uhh, it can nullify a curse that hasn’t taken root,” Eija said as fast as he could. A small grin forced its way on his face. Nice, I actually knew that one off the top of my head.

“And what else?” Lord Gremmelt replied.

What else? What else!? I know I have it written down… Eija’s whole face tightened as he reluctantly looked his notes over. “It can be used to dampen Arcane, or protect against mental enchantments.”

“That it can.” Lord Gremmelt smiled as he twisted the pouch closed. “Eija, I want you to be honest with me. How good at fighting do you think you are?”

“I was the strongest among my friends,” Eija replied. “But we never got into a serious fight, so I don’t really know.”

“Hmph, an honest answer. I prefer to work with a blank slate anyhow, easier to set good habits then beat out bad ones.” Lord Gremmelt stood up. “Come on, we're not far from our destination.”

Eija followed after him. “What exactly are we doing out here?”

“Training. Once we reach the Shylar trees, I'll go over exactly what that entails.”

“Shylar tree? What is that?” Eija asked.

“Shylar is an elven word meaning ‘sage-like’ or ‘clever’. They are thin, sturdy trees that only grow deep in the forest of Alger.” Lord Gremmelt stopped and examined the surrounding woods. “They are usually hard to come by, but many years back, Lord Isle discovered a way to grow them, so we have some set aside for Initiates.”

“Why don’t you just grow them at the keep?” Eija asked.

Lord Gremmelt laughed. “Let's just say you’ll see soon enough.”

I don’t like how that sounds. What could that even mean? There wasn’t anything in any of those stupid books on Shylar trees! Just don’t think about it… Change the subject or something…

Eija looked up at Gremmelt’s face and noticed the lines in his forehead, his graying hair, and crows feat. He looked to Eija like someone of a kind authority, the type of person who would let you off with a warning if it wasn’t serious.

“So, Lord Gremmelt, how long have you been with The Order?” Eija asked.

“As I said in my introduction, since the beginning,” Lord Gremmelt replied. “Now I have one for you. How did you make it to Witchbane Keep?”

Eija’s heart skipped a beat. Sweat built on his brow. Panic stirred in his gut. “I took the road,” Eija quickly spat before adding, “How else?”

Gremmelt folded his arms, skepticism hanging from his brow. “Really?” He stepped a little closer to the boy. “I find that hard to believe, see, because I took that same road from Witchbane Keep to Eddlesreef, and I never passed by a boy.”

Shit. I can’t tell him about… “I didn’t exactly stay on the road,” Eija replied. “I’ve never been outside of Eddlesreef before and figured I could cut my time in half if I took to the woods from time to time.” Eija chuckled, adding, “It actually ended up taking me longer than if I just took the road.”

“And the notches on that keepsake?”

Eija shrugged. “I hit some trees in anger,” he said in a low voice drenched in shame. “I was frustrated. That night… I only got in Benard’s way.”

“What exactly happened that night?” Gremmelt asked.

“It’s difficult to remember everything. The whole night is one long blur. My sister was standing over our parents, in front of them on display.” Eija brought up his hand to his head and covered his eyes. “She was so happy. Benard charged, and she manifested some kind of Arcane blast. He smacked it with his sword and it crashed back into Aleya.” Eija paused, thinking over what exactly to say.

“But he was too injured to finish her off. She got away and he chased her.” Eija raised his eyes to Lord Gremmelt’s. “He jumped the river, and by the time I made it across, he was knee deep in well water. His last words were jumbled and somewhat incoherent. He told me about the Daughters of Chaos and how the number 13 was important, though he never explained how.

“Last he grabbed me tight, stared in my eyes, and said ‘Blackgrave. It cannot be searched for’. It sounded as if he was going to add something else, but his final breath was simply ‘Blackgrave.”

Gremmelt stood with arms folded, keenly watching the boy as he spoke. Just when he finished, he asked, “How exactly did you break your nose?”

“Like I said, I got in Benard’s way,” Eija replied. He rubbed his nose with fingers, carefully touching it so as to not cause himself anymore pain.

“Very well,” Lord Gremmelt replied, moving away from Eija. “We're almost there.”

The two walked a few more minutes before Gremmelt waved his hand out in front of him and said, “There they are.”

Interspersed throughout the forest were gray, slender trees with shaggy hair-like leaves that grew from tiny branches near its crown. Some stood alone, others were bunched up. They were fairly short for trees, ranging anywhere from five to eight feet tall.

“These are Shylar trees and your first of two challenges you must complete in order to become a Witch Hunter,” said Lord Gremmelt.

“What do I have to do?” asked Eija.

“Simple, you need to cut one down with a single slash of your sword.” Lord Gremmelt gestured towards the trees.

“But I don’t know how to swing a sword!” protested Eija.

“That would make things difficult.” Lord Gremmelt unsheathed the long sword he was carrying. “Go on, get yours as well. I will teach you exactly the slash you need to use to cut through it. Once you succeed, your actual training will begin.”

Eija nodded and slid his longsword from his back and mirrored Lord Grememlt’s stance as best he could. “Like this?” Eija asked diffidently.

“Lower your shoulders,” Gremmelt replied as he examined the boy's posture. “Don’t lock your knees.” Gremmelt paced around him, correcting the problems as he found them.

“Okay, now watch closely. I’ll go through the maneuver at speed, then I’ll break it down slowly.” Lord Gremmelt stepped away from the boy to have some distance. He squeezed the hilt of his sword and raised the blade in front of him. His eyes narrowed, his shoulders lifted, and with a step, the blade was up and around his head, whistling through the air as he slashed.

“Now listen.” Gremmelt returned to the base stance. “Sword is front, I am focused on only the figurative enemy before me. As I take a step”—he stepped slowly in front of him and raised his blade—“I bring the blade up, swing it around, place my foot, and turn my hips to generate the power needed to make the cut.” He looked at Eija. “Now replicate.”

“Okay,” Eija replied. He imagined a soldier in front of him and let out a deep breath through his broken nose. Alright, Eija, let's do this. He took a step, brought his blade up and around, and twisted his hips as he swung. “How was that?”

“Bad, but not terrible,” Gremmelt replied as he moved over. “Get back in position.” He moved to Eija’s side. “Go slowly through the motions. Remember you are starting it while your foot is still in the air.”

Eija nodded. Okay, Eija, just relax. He slowly went through the steps again until Gremmelt stopped him.

“You're stepping too far,” Gremmelt told him. He grabbed Eija by the arm and began to pull and push him off balance. “See how easy I can push you over?”

Eija nodded and returned to the base stance. He took another breath and proceeded slowly. Once he got to the swing, Gremmelt stopped him again.

“You need to bring the blade around smoother. Right now you are taking it up too high. It needs to smoothly rotate above your shoulders or else you’ll never make the cut.”

“Okay…” Eija replied. C’mon, Eija! Do it right for a change! Eija shook the thoughts from his head and returned to the base position. This time for sure. He lifted his blade, took a step, brought it around, and twisted his hips for power. He looked to Gremmelt for approval.

“Close, but your hip twisting is off. Try doing it more in line with the swing or else you're never going to have enough power to cut all the way through.” Lord Gremmelt sheathed his own sword and folded his arms. “Now do it again, this time right.”

So basically every part was wrong. Great. “Okay,” Eija replied. He took in a breath, blew it out, and did the maneuver again. “How was that?” he asked.

“Better,” replied Gremmelt as he moved around the boy. “Again,” he commanded.

Eija repeated it and Gremmelt commanded him to do it again. Over and over he swung, unsure how many times Lord Gremmelt would have him do it. His hands sweat inside his gloves and his knees wanted to buckle beneath all the weight of the chainmail, cloak, and pack.

How long can this go on? Eija tried to keep his breathing steady, but it was no use. His heart pounded so hard in his chest he felt like even Lord Gremmelt could hear it. Just when he thought he could swing no more, Lord Gremmelt paused and all was silent. Eija smiled and doubled over, placing one hand on his knee.

“Stand, boy,” said Gremmelt. “Learn to stay standing and alert. Even when the fight is over, a Witch Hunter never lowers their guard.”

Eija pushed himself up and took in deep breaths. That’s gotta be it for today, right? He wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve and looked up at Gremmelt.

“Are you ready to try cutting the Shylar tree or shall we continue?” asked Gremmelt.

“I’ll try the tree,” Eija said in between heavy breaths. “Do I just pick one?”

Lord Gremmelt nodded. “Sure, just pick one.” He stood off to the side and watched closely.

I feel like he’s acting too nonchalant about this. What's the deal with these trees? Eija scanned the trees, hoping for one to pop out and be the clear choice. He passed over each tree three times.

Well I guess I’ll just pick one then. Let’s see here, maybe this one. He looked at it carefully. No, I don’t like how thick the bark on that one looks. Kinda looks like it might be harder to cut through than some of these other ones. “Hmmmm…” Eija squinted as he examined the next.

There’s a spider web in that one, so that's a no go. Okay, how about this one. Eija smiled and nodded his head. Okay, so I'll cut down this one. Wait! He stopped just as he was stepping towards it. It has way more leaves than the rest of them, so it might be healthier than the others. What If I fail? Is it just back to more swinging?

Eija brought his hand to his mouth. Wait. Why am I so reluctant to cut these trees? It’s just a tree, there is no reason to care.

“Have you picked one?” Gremmelt asked.

Eija nodded. “Yeah,” He stepped towards the one closest without thinking. “I’m going to cut down this one.”

“Good, let’s see it.”

Okay, just like I practiced. He stood in front of the tree and raised his blade. He took a deep breath, then a step, then stopped dead in his tracks. I can't do it… I'll never be able to cut through one of these.

“Having trouble?” Gremmelt asked.

Eija lowered his blade and stood up straight. “I can’t do it,” he replied as he turned. “There’s just no way I’ll be able to cut through this with a sword, maybe an ax and several swings, but not a sword.”

“And why is that?” Gremmelt began to make his way over to Eija.

“I just can't…” Eija said, unsatisfied with his answer.

“I see.” Lord Gremmelt knelt down and pulled out the flowers of witchbane he had collected earlier. “Are you experienced with a mortar and pestle?”

“No, not at all,” replied Eija.

“It’s simple enough, just keep grinding these flowers until they are all broken up.” He handed everything over to Eija.

“Alright,” Eija said as he took the pestle in hand. This is at least easier than swinging this heavy sword.

Gremmelt watched Eija slowly grind the flowers until they would break up no further. “Good, now add some water.”

Eija grabbed his canteen and poured some into the mortar until it was half full. Looking up at Gremmelt he said, “Is this enough?”

“Yes, now mix it all together.”

Eija mixed it with the pestle until none of the bits of flower were sitting on the bottom and the water had turned dark blue in color. “Now what?” he asked.

“Now you drink it. All of it,” Gremmelt replied.

Eija stared down at the mixture he created, unsure if he would be able to stomach it. Not wanting to disappoint Lord Gremmelt further, he closed his eyes and emptied it into his mouth. It was bitter to the taste, and some chunks of flower got in his teeth. After swallowing it down, he wiped his mouth and looked back to Lord Gremmelt.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Gremmelt asked, and Eija nodded his head. “Alright, now”—he turned back towards the trees—”try to cut the tree again.”

“Alright…” Eija stood back up. Don’t see how drinking disgusting flower water is going to help, but here goes nothing. He handed the mortar and pestle back to Gremmelt, and returned to the tree he had picked out earlier. He stood in front of it for a moment before raising his blade and taking a deep breath. Without giving it a second thought, he took a step, swung the blade, twisted his hips, and buried his sword about 1/3rd of the way through.

“Not bad for the first try,” Lord Gremmelt said as he approached. “But you’ll need to strengthen your will if you are going to cut through it.”

Despite failing to cut through the tree, Eija was elated that he even made the attempt. He smiled and freed his sword from the bark. “I suppose getting it on my first try would have been unlikely,” he said beneath his breath.

“Eija, tell me, why do you think you hesitated before?” Lord Gremmelt asked.

Eija pondered for a moment, hoping something would come to him to help explain why, but it never did. “I can’t really place why, just that before, it felt like it was impossible. Like I would break my sword if I tried, or I would not even get past the bark.”

“And how long do you think you practiced swinging before I had you try on the tree?”

Eija stared blankly at the ground. “Hmmm, maybe like an hour or so.”

Lord Gremmelt laughed and shook his head. “Really? Well I find that hard to believe. I only had you practice the swing ten times.”

Eija’s eyes grew wide and he looked at Gremmelt with bewilderment across his brow. “What?” Eija shook his head. “No way, I was so tired I was ready to fall over.”

“Then where is all that exhaustion now?”

Eija suddenly realized he wasn’t tired, his hands were not sweaty, and he felt completely fine. “I don’t know...” I know I was tired. I could feel the sweat inside of my gloves... What's happening?

“It's the Shylar tree’s doing. The damn thing gets in your head, tries to trick you into not cutting it down,” said Gremmelt.

Eija reeled back in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Gremmelt placed his hand firmly on the tree and ran his fingers down the bark. “These trees are aware of their surroundings and can sense when they are in danger. Somehow they can affect those around them. They can make you seem tired, or give you reasons to avoid chopping it.”

“Then the witchbane I drank counteracted it.” Eija was astonished by the realization he was no longer being affected by the tree.

“Now you see why we don’t keep them close to the Keep. Even if you’re not planning on cutting one down, the damn trees get in your head and can make you see or feel things that aren't really there.” Lord Gremmelt tapped his temple.

“The witchbane helps, but you must learn to cut through the tree without its aid. You won’t always have witchbane on hand. It has many uses, and once you're on the hunt, you won’t believe how fast your supplies run out.“

Eija stared at the ground and took a deep breath. The anticipation of what was to come was like a heavy iron bar stretched across his shoulders. No matter what, I will save her. I’ll destroy the Daughters of Chaos and free my sister. Resolved to push ahead at any cost, he looked up at Gremmelt and said, “I’ll do my best.”