The Legend of the Hunter
The Sentinel's Purpose

The company reached the scant safety of the trees as the heavens opened and it started to rain in earnest. The group hurried further into the more densely packed interior to avoid being soaked by the copious downpour. Qarethlin scouted ahead for a suitable camping site and soon the party joined her at a hastily arranged spot in a small clearing.

Borethlin, Gavurothlin, Talat and Release took up defensive positions while Qarethlin sat down next to Lathlin. Belac and Zaherain stood near the Elfling and faced the Elf Commander. Both men were afire with unanswered questions, but they waited patiently for the Commander to speak.

Conversely, the Elves were justifiably curious about the presence of a Hollow Person among them, but they deferred to Juathlin to ask the necessary questions and simply kept a watchful eye on the woman.

“You must be Zaherain,” Juathlin said to the Weaver and clasped his arm in his. The Weaver was dumbstruck by the fact that an Elf Commander knew his name, and could only nod in agreement. He was, however, more intimidated by the fact that the Elf Commander was also the legendary Sentinel.

“We know who you are because of your mate, Zidayt, and your grandchild, Zenia,” the Commander offered in explanation.

“But how did you know I would be here and that I would be alive?” Zaherain asked. At hearing Zidayt’s name, the Weaver’s heart had thumped so loudly in his ears that he couldn’t even hear himself ask the question.

“That is what I would also like to know, Juathlin. How did you know I would be here in the Forsaken Forest when I had told Rhinihr to inform you that I would be in Queleuq?” Lathlin queried. Belac was keen to know the answer to that as well, but the Commander’s obscure comment still rattled and needled him. He needed answers now, but he maintained his silence.

The Commander commenced to give Lathlin, Belac and the rest a concise and brief report of everything that had transpired since Lathlin had been taken by the Hollow People to their Shrine. He concluded by telling Zaherain about Zenia being a powerful Ripple.

“And that is how we discovered your location, Lathlin. Seeing that you were with Zaherain and because of Zenia’s mental connection to him, she could tell us that you, too, were at the Shrine,” Juathlin concluded. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“A Ripple,” Zaherain said in awe, “my little Zenia a Ripple. Who could ever have imagined such a thing?” he asked rhetorically. Then a thought struck him. “Rachmin steps out of an ancient tale into our reality; a Ripple is among us after nearly five centuries have passed since the existence of the last one. Does this mean the time of the legend is upon us, Sentinel?” the Weaver asked, addressing Juathlin. “Has Warlock Azlotlin returned as he vowed he would?”

“Wait,” Qarethlin said, holding up an elegant but firm hand to stop the Weaver. “Why is he referring to you as Sentinel, Juathlin?” she asked her Commander.

Belac was constantly surprised by the lack of formality that existed between the Elves, for he repeatedly expected them to call their leader “Commander” or “Sir”, but all of them used his first name. The Hunter admitted to himself though that their tone always conveyed respect and honour.

As if in response to the Elf woman’s question, the Commander’s eyes brightened very briefly when he looked directly at Belac, before they dimmed to their usual glow.

“The Weaver, it seems, knows the legend quite well, for he is correct in calling me by my true name. I was but an Elfling during the time of Warlock Azlotlin’s attempt to become an omnipotent ruler. When his perversion of magic and his atrocities were discovered, the Elves agreed as one to destroy him. The Elders knew though that Azlotlin was far too powerful a Mage to be so easily routed, therefore they suspected he would devise a manner in which he could return to exact revenge upon all those who had opposed him.

“When Zaasisha confirmed their suspicious and revealed that Azlotlin had transformed himself into some hideous Beast, the Elders took measures to ensure that Azlotlin would not only be foiled, but that he would be utterly defeated when he returned as the Drakheen. They needed an Elf who would be given a gift of grave responsibility, and they asked for volunteers. I was young, my blood was hot and I was eager to prove my Elven mettle and battle skills. I not only volunteered, but I also insisted that I be given this burden. I unfairly used my royal heritage to force the Elders to let me be the bearer of the gift.

“The power I was granted was simple: my own eyes were removed, and replaced by these golden orbs. They would enable me to function as Sentinel, waiting and watching for the coming of the one who would serve as the counterpart to the Drakheen. And these burning globes would hail the Saviour when I finally found him.”

Juathlin concluded his narrative and noticed that it had become early evening. The two Battle Elves were still keeping watch, but Talat had started a small fire while Release was preparing some kind of vegetable stew.

“Hence Zaherain’s comment about the Sentinel having served his purpose,” Borethlin said from his sentry post. “But now what? You have identified Rachmin and completed your watch, but what is our next step? How do we conquer or even fight this Drakheen?” he asked.

“We need to get back to Zanderon in all haste,” Zaherain spoke up. “The Drakheen has only one objective; nothing else matters to him. He wants the Ripple and he will go after her with a vengeance. His desire to have her is insatiable,” he stated.

“If a Ripple is present in our time, and the Sentinel has verified the authenticity of the Saviour, it is only logical that the Drakheen is a real threat, too. Although we have heard no word of his return or existence, we have no choice but to believe that he has returned,” Gavurothlin reasoned.

It was then that Belac finally spoke, and the Hunter measured his words carefully before he voiced his thoughts. Lathlin could see the apprehension and disbelief snaking and turning around his friend in turbulent ropes of energy. He stood up and came to stand next to Belac, silently offering the Hunter his support and encouragement. Belac gave his friend a grateful glance.

“I’ve heard the Weaver’s prophecy about Rachmin, and now you claim that I am the one who will face the Drakheen, but I am just an ordinary Hunter with no extraordinary skills. I’ve lived most of my life in the shadows to avoid becoming embroiled in intrigues and plots, and now you drag me into one of the greatest dramas Verahasti has ever seen. What makes both of you so certain that I am this ‘Rachmin’? All Zaherain has as proof is that I am left-handed, and this mark on my face,” Belac stated and brushed his fingers across his right cheek.

Juathlin walked closer to Belac and rested his hands on the Hunter’s shoulders. “Hunter, trust me when I say you are the Saviour. These eyes of mine were created by Mages for only one purpose: to identify the one who would save us in our Hour of need. And they are infallible.”

“Belac,” Lathlin said and also reached out to the Hunter, “I have seen that there is a presence surrounding you. It is unlike the energies of everyone else’s I have ever met. I saw it the very first time I found you lying in your own pool of blood in this very forest, and I knew there was something unique about you. What I omitted to tell you when you awoke was that you had lost so much blood in your fight with the dreiche that you should not have survived, but I sensed that there was something larger at work, that you had been spared for some unknown but significant reason. I do not doubt for a moment that you are the Saviour, especially since the Sentinel has proclaimed you as such,” the Elfling concluded.

Qarethlin had made camp in a natural hollow among the towering trees, and the overarching branches were so thickly interwoven that the raindrops failed to penetrate the network. Lightning suddenly flashed brightly, followed a few seconds later by the boom of thunder. Again the lightning flashed, this time rapidly and for an extended period, and the thunder that followed the display was deeper and stridently ear-splitting.

“If I believed in omens and such, I would have said that’s a sure sign of one,” Talat said suddenly from where he was crouched over the cooking stew. Release gave him an exasperated look, but the ex-Thug just said, “Whaaat?”

“Well, I’ve never been a man to run from duty or fate, even though this might be the death of me, so tell me what we have to do next,” Belac stated in his characteristically stoic manner.

“We need to get back to Zanderon in all haste, as that is where the Drakheen will head to, seeing that Zenia is there,” Zaherain repeated.

“We can exit the Forsaken Forest by crossing the Naddi River to Ghoshal Forest,” Qarethlin suggested. “We could reach Zanderon by midday tomorrow if we leave tonight,” she added.

Gavurothlin nodded in agreement and said, “I suggest we have a hurried meal first, since one has already been prepared, then walk throughout as much of the night as we can.”

“I concur,” Juathlin said. Within minutes everyone ate some of the stew and dried fruit the Elves had with them. After nearly an hour had passed, the group was ready to depart the accursed forest. That was when a mreinik slithered silently into their camp. Release saw the monstrosity first and coolly said, “No sudden movements. We have company.”

Belac had an arrow aimed at the serpent by the time the Hollow Person uttered the word “have”. Borethlin and Gavurothlin immediately called upon their magic, but Release said, “Hold! These creatures never leave their domain except for one reason: if there are any dreiche nearby.” As if to prove the girl correct, three dreiche boldly strode into the camp from different directions, but upon spotting the rearing mreinik, all three beasts turned as one to focus on it.

Juathlin signalled the group to move out of the way of the nightmarish creatures facing off, and they carefully stepped away from the small clearing. One of the dreiche noticed their furtive movements though and launched itself with uncanny speed at Zaherain, who had lagged behind. The animal was plucked mid-leap from the air by the attacking mreinik, which grabbed the dreiche just behind its head and rapidly embraced the struggling animal in its crushing coils. The other two dreiche raced to its rescue, but another hidden mreinik fell atop one of them in a millisecond. It had been concealed among the lower branches of a nearby tree, and it curled its muscular coils efficiently and murderously around the shrieking dreiche. The last dreiche stopped in confusion when it saw its pack mates being crushed to death by the serpent, but its hesitation lasted for mere seconds. Then it focused on a new target: Qarethlin.

The Elf woman smiled gleefully and said, “Big mistake, you ugly brute.” She was standing just slightly in front of Lathlin, shielding him with her body, but as the dreiche charged at her, the Elfling took one step forward and smashed his staff hard against the side of the creature’s head. Belac let fly the arrow he had strung and hit the dreiche high in its left thigh. Lathlin’s blow and Belac’s arrow combined to send the animal staggering, and Qarethlin took advantage of its temporary disorientation. She jumped astride the massive beast and stabbed down mercilessly with her knives. One sank into the dreiche’s left side while the other knife penetrated its ribcage. The maddened dreiche bucked and growled and hissed at Qarethlin who held on with all her strength. She kept on piercing it in vulnerable places, wearing it down and eventually felling the foul beast.

Behind her, the second mreinik contracted its coils with such might that blood and meaty pieces of organs exploded from the unfortunate dreiche’s maw. Zaherain retched loudly while Release held on to him, supporting the weak and sickened man.

While the two mreinik started devouring their respective dreiche, Belac said, “Lathlin, didn’t you tell me once that where there are dreiche, the Hollow People would not be far behind?”

It was Release who answered him though, her large eyes stretched even bigger in fear and her voice filled with panic.

“Yes! Yes, the dreiche are our vanguards. Were… their… I mean, they are the scouts for the Hollow People. We must flee now!” She seemed absolutely rattled by the possibility that her people could at any second come upon them. “Follow me! I will take you via the quickest route to the Naddi River and the crossing into Ghoshal Forest. We must leave now!” she repeated and so saying, hauled Zaherain along with her. The rest of the company dropped whatever gear they had been planning to pack up and sped after the fast disappearing woman.

Release was true to her word and within three-quarters of an hour they emerged from the Forsaken Forest at its boundary, the Naddi River serving as the natural demarcation between it and the lesser Ghoshal Forest. It was twilight by then, but the rain was still pounding the land in unabated sheets. The river raged with swollen waters and resembled a broad black snake with white spots as it rushed by under the sturdily constructed wooden bridge that allowed passage from the larger forest to the smaller one. The winded group was brought up short though by what stood in front of them.

An open meadow stretched from where the trees of the Forsaken Forest stopped to the river’s banks, and in this clearing a squad of one hundred Harvesters waited, effectively blocking access to the bridge. At their head stood the tall, unmistakable figure of Pain.

The Mistress of the Harvesters smiled nastily when she saw the gathered group; her body was flushed with adrenalin at the coming battle, and an involuntary bark of a laugh escaped her when she noticed the surprised looks on some of the faces of her quarry. She was slightly unprepared for the presence of four unfamiliar Elves, but they only whet her bloodlust more. The Harvesters to a man and woman unsheathed weapons to cut each other once on an arm or leg.

“First blood to summon life blood,” they all chanted as they took up defensive stances. Pain strolled to the head of her squad and bellowed at her quarry, “I knew my pets would drive you out of hiding. Pray we kill you quickly, for if we capture you, you will wish we had slain you instead!

“Traitor!” she spat at Release, “you I will give to my Harvesters, but the Elfling is mine!”

Qarethlin moved with lethal grace to the front of the group, extended her right arm lazily and beckoned with a curled middle finger to the zealous woman standing in their way. “Come and get him if you can, kutefsh, but you will have to go through me first.”

“And me,” Belac added in a threatening tone, his voice deepening in anger at the arrogance of Pain. Every Elf moved to shield Lathlin while Release told Zaherain to stay close to her.

Talat stood next to her and said with passion, “I will gut any scum who even tries to touch you.” Belatedly he realised that the “scum” had until very recently been her people, and he stammered out an apology. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called them that. I didn’t mean to offend you …”

Release looked at him in surprise and unbidden tears filled her large eyes, but she quickly blotted them. She spontaneously kissed Talat briefly but passionately, and then drew her weapons. She handed a wicked looking dagger to Zaherain, who took it from her with fear etched across his face.Talat looked as if a boulder had landed on him.

“In case we don’t make it out alive,” Release said playfully to the stunned ex-Thug.

From across the meadow, Pain said, “So be it,” and gave the order to attack.

The two Battle Elves blasted the entire charging front row of Harvesters off their feet, killing each of them with the blow, but the rest of the attacking force was upon the group before they could strike again. They switched to their short swords and knives, but used their magic to cut down any of the enemy whenever they could.

Belac, Talat and Release fought like possessed warriors, shooting, gutting and striking down Harvesters as if they were nothing but mere blades of grass. Zaherain maintained a safe distance from the melee, but the Weaver used his dagger to cut any unwary Harvester who was otherwise occupied. Zaherain knew he was toying with death, but he couldn’t simply stand back and do nothing.

Juathlin and Qarethlin protected Lathlin at all costs, not allowing a single Harvester to even approach within an arm’s length of the Elfling. They fought so fiercely that they had slaughtered four Harvesters in the time it took Belac, Talat and Release to slay two. Then Pain was there, facing the two Elves with madness dancing in her eyes and her sword swirling rapidly about her. She slashed at Juathlin and shockingly scored a deep gash from the top of his left shoulder to the elbow. Blood spurted copiously into the Hollow Woman’s face, and she cackled in unabashed elation. The Commander dropped heavily to one knee.

“Juathlin!” Lathlin shouted in consternation, causing Belac to look over at him. The Hunter made a split second decision and ran over to the Elfling. Pain now faced Qarethlin, the Harvester Mistress supremely confident that she could kill the Elf woman with ease. Qarethlin had other ideas though. She feinted for Pain’s face then lightning quick tackled the woman to the ground. The lunge caused Pain’s sword to go flying off, embedding itself in an unfortunate Harvester who had been running to her aid. Qarethlin punched Pain hard in the face, breaking the woman’s nose, but Pain barely registered the injury. With an incredibly powerful shove, she thrust Qarethlin off her, pitching her into Juathlin.

Before Qarethlin could engage Pain again, the Commander grabbed hold of her and shouted, “Take Lathlin and the others! Cross the bridge while I hold these Soulless Ones here!” He was still bleeding profusely, and it looked as if his left arm had lost most of its mobility. Qarethlin knew what he was doing, and she would have none of it.

“No! We can defeat them,” she shouted back while Pain pulled her sword out of the dead Harvester.

“Quiver 7 Arrow! That is an order,” Juathlin said in a firm voice, pulling rank on Qarethlin and knowing she would have no choice but to obey. The Elf woman threw daggers at him, but her ingrained training kicked in.

“Vardu!” she cursed bitterly, then sprinted over to Lathlin and Belac and told the Hunter to get the others to follow her to the bridge. She grabbed hold of Lathlin and moved away from Juathlin and Pain toward the bridge.

Belac fought his way to the bridge as well; Talat, Release, Zaherain and Gavurothlin joined him. Borethlin was holding off a number of the Harvesters with a magic spell. Qarethlin wanted to rush to his aid because she knew the spell wouldn’t last long and that it drained the Elf of his energy, but she had her orders. She cast an angry look behind her as she and the others reached the bridge. The Harvesters who had been trying to cut them off were all dead, but there were still too many facing Juathlin and Borethlin. The Battle Elf locked eyes with Qarethlin over the heads of the Harvesters encircling him, and she read his decision as if it were plainly written in the sky. He was going to incinerate them along with himself.

On the opposite side from Borethlin, Pain was circling Juathlin in fury. She had allowed the Elfling to once again slip through her fingers, and she was going to make the Elf Commander pay dearly.

She suddenly spat at him and charged, her sword raised to cut him down. Juathlin parried her blow and immediately thrust his sword at her midriff. Pain danced nimbly back and answered his attack with a flurry of her own. Her sword sang as it whirled through the air and struck Juathlin’s blade again and again. She rejoiced in the knowledge that the Elf was weakening, and it spurred her on to increase the severity of her assault. Her sword spun in her hands as if it had a life of its own, moving in a blur around the exhausted Commander’s defences. Juathlin knew it was only a matter of seconds before the woman would cut him down. That was when he felt and heard the low vibration coming from Borethlin.

Borethlin was building up a magical energy field that would destroy anything in its path. It was a powerful spell that would slay the wielder, too, but the Battle Elf knew his friends needed all the help they could get to vanquish the Drakheen. He considered sacrificing himself to grant them an avenue of escape and time needed to get to Zanderon a small price to pay indeed. He was rueful though that Juathlin would also be an unavoidable casualty, but then his eyes found Juathlin’s and he plainly read the Commander’s approval in those golden orbs. He closed the last link in the chain of the spell, and intoned the key Word to unleash a wave of destruction.

“Raakhush,” he uttered, and a wall of fire expanded from him, consuming all of those caught in its path. The falling raindrops were vaporised in the wake of the conflagration.

Pain stood over the downed Elf Commander, her sword poised to decapitate her insufferable enemy. Too late she realised her peril, for although she had heard the thrumming vibration of power, she had been so intent on defeating her opponent that she had failed to take any kind of action to save herself.

The Mistress of the Harvesters saw the grim smile on the handsome features of the Elf before her eyes swept up, in time to see the blast of fire race unhindered towards her. Pain attempted to shout a defiant “No!”, but the flames instantly obliterated her, turning her into nothing more than ashes falling to the wet ground.

The fleeing party had reached the other side of the bridge when the fire destroyed everyone on the Forsaken Forest side. They stood in stunned silence at the awful catastrophe that had befallen the two Elves. Gavurothlin was clenching and releasing his fists in frustration; Lathlin had gone completely pale, and he was weeping freely; Qarethlin held on to him and stared disbelievingly at the slowly rising vapour on the opposite side; Release and Talat were crestfallen and moved towards each other for solace; Belac wore a forbidding and livid look on his face.

Into this grave and sombre atmosphere, Zaherain’s words echoed like an epitaph for a brave man.

“The Sentinel has fulfilled his purpose.”

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.