Door to Altharia: Chapter Three – The Arthian’s Oath

This is the last chapter I’ll be releasing for free. I hope you’ve enjoyed the sneak preview; I think it’s made for a good introduction 🙂 Thank you so much for reading!

If you’d like to look back at Chapter One, you can find that here, and Chapter Two is here. I’ve also put all three chapters together on the Door to Altharia page, so that they can be read together.

Without further ado, here is Chapter Three of Door To Altharia: The Arthian’s Oath. Happy reading!

Chapter 3

The Arthian’s Oath

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While Alec ran, he noticed that the grass had already grown slick, dew rising as the temperatures dropped. Oddly, a mist had begun to roll up from the earth as soon as Alec had left his parents’ yard, roiling as if out of the ground itself. It pooled in the swales at the bottom of the hills, but he plunged through.

He had to keep up. The owl creature was moving quickly, more quickly than Alec had thought possible when he first realized it was some kind of bird.

There was a certain aggressive power to the curve of its wings and how they cut through the air. He was reminded of the hawks that spiralled over the golf course, hunting for mice.

He missed a step as he considered that, knowing he should be more frightened than he was.

What are you doing, Alec? his mind screamed at him. You don’t even know what this thing is! It’s a talking bird, for crying out loud! With a tail!

But that was just it.

The whole thing was so crazy, so out-of-this-world weird that he had to see what was happening. If he left now, he almost wouldn’t believe that any of it had taken place.

Besides, he thought with a grin, this is kind of fun. It felt good to get out of the house and run, like he was breaking away from some dread that gripped his mind.

He felt free.

He watched while up ahead the owl thing spread out its talons and flared its wings, gracefully landing in a large maple near the tee boxes. Alec quirked an eyebrow and shivered, remembering the eyes glinting in the shadows.

Slowing down as he approached the maple, he was greeted by a buzzing chorus of cicadas. He scanned the forest quickly, realizing that in his fear earlier that day he had missed many of its beautiful details. Oaks, maples, and elms filled the area densely, each one clad in a robe of climbing, swirling ivy. Ivy filled the underbrush as well, interspersed with ferns and bushes and shrubs, all blending together to create a seemingly impenetrable wall of luscious green.

He turned to the bird.

“Alright, I followed you. But this can’t be where you’re from – I’ve never seen you before.”

The bird seemed to ignore him, combing its beak through its chest feathers nonchalantly.

Alec folded his arms, peering up at the creature.

“Hey! I did what you wanted! What do you want with me?”

Annoyed by the bird’s attitude, a thought came to Alec and he bent over to pick up a nearby stone. Tossing it from hand to hand, he set his jaw and glared meaningfully up at the owl thing.

It paused, ceasing with its preening for a moment, then blinked unconcernedly and resumed.

Alec hefted the rock, trying to judge the distance. Did he dare? It might be worth it, just to give the bird a scare.

As he looked up, however, the bird gave him a direct and warning stare. “Drop the rock, boy.” There was steel in that raspy voice, but the creature made no movement.

Letting the stone fall, Alec thrust his hands into his pockets and took a breath.

“Okay,” he said, “I have a question.”

“Yes?” the bird replied curtly. “What is it?”

“Why were you watching me this morning? I saw you,” he said, pointing to the trees, “What do you want?”

The owl thing was quiet, as though it was thinking. Finally, it gave another grating cackle and eyed him slyly.

“You’re wrong, boy. Tonight is the first time I’ve ever set eye on your sorry little human hide.”

“Alright, that’s it!” Alec growled. He bent over to pick up another stone, but a deep, rich voice rumbled through the air, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t mind him, lad. It was me you saw.”

There came a movement from the brush, and something huge stepped out of the cover of the trees. After his initial shock, Alec stared in wonder.

The creature before him was impressive; broad shouldered and tall, it was powerfully built. Soft on its feet and coordinated in its movements, it moved about with an easy and practiced grace, striding quietly into the light.

Alec’s breath caught in his throat.

It was covered all over in thick brown fur, which seemed especially strange on its upright humanoid body. Its face was fearsome, reminding Alec vaguely of a bear’s, but with a much nobler brow and intelligent features. A thick mane of dark hair fell to its shoulders, and a neatly trimmed beard curtained its jaw.

As it walked closer, Alec felt smaller and smaller. It must have been almost eight feet tall! It wore clothes, which was comforting for some reason, but they were very odd looking, as though the creature had stepped out of some medieval age.

The creature dipped a knee, tucked one arm at its waist, and swept the other gravely in front of itself while it bowed. When it lifted its head, Alec gasped; its eyes were golden, and they glimmered like the eyes of a wolf in the night.

Standing, the creature spoke again.

“I am Caradoc.”

The creature paused, waiting for Alec to do something, but he could think of nothing to say. It was hard enough to breath, let alone to speak!

The creature eyed him, curious but not unfriendly, before continuing.

“I have come to make a request of you, Alec,” it informed him.

“The Maker has sent me. Darkness rises in my world, and strange things are heard on the wind; I fear for my land, for my king, and for my people. I Traveled here to find the aid I needed, and I have found it in you. At first, I doubted, but your kind has helped my people before. And, though you probably do not know it, you bear the mark of the Maker.”

Still dazed by the suddenness of it all, Alec gave a start and broke in, words coming from his mouth in a rush. “Wait, what? You need my help? But you don’t even know me! And what do you mean, I’m marked? Who’s the Maker?”

Caradoc smiled, and gestured towards the woods. “Come. Jakar and I will show you the way. I will explain what I can as we walk.”

A warning flag went off in Alec’s mind.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he sputtered, “I’m not going with you anywhere! The bird thing has hardly been friendly, and I just met you.”

Caradoc listened and grinned up at the bird, teeth flashing white in the gloom. “Already making friends, Jakar?”

Jakar stared back flatly.

Turning again to Alec, Caradoc’s face softened.

“You are wise to be wary, young one. Let me assure you, you will be safe with me.” He laid his hand on something at his waist, and for the first time Alec noticed the sword belted at his hip. Its hilt glinted silver in the dusk.

He really is from medieval times, Alec thought to himself, eyes wide.

“But, that is not the only reason you should come,” Caradoc continued, clapping a hand on Alec’s shoulder earnestly. “I have watched you for some time now, and I know that you are sad with your life here. Should you come to Altharia, I can promise you this: you will find happiness. It is a world of wonder and good things. It may challenge you, but it will be for the best.”

His words struck home, closer than he could know. Alec was surprised at how powerfully the creature’s words affected him.

“A world of wonder and good things,” he repeated, tasting the words.

He tried to think of what that would be like, and as his mind raced with the possibilities, a smile found its way to his face. To his surprise, he felt something deep within, a yearning he didn’t understand, pushing him to go with this strange creature.

“Come,” Caradoc said again, eyes twinkling in the dusk. “We will talk as we walk. Are you coming, Jakar?”

The bird swooped down from his roost and landed lightly behind Alec, waddling forward in an ambling shuffle. At Alec’s quizzical glance, Jakar gave a shrug and pointed into the trees.

“No room for flying in there, boy.”

When they stepped past the screen of greenery, Alec found that his expectations of what the forest held fell far short. The forest was its own world of silence and stillness, filled with the hushed magic of the evening. The sun had finally gone all the way down, leaving the moon to take his kingly seat in the night sky, sending bars of mote-filled white through the canopy of trees. There was just enough light to see where they were going, highlighting fallen logs and game trails, revealing a depth to the grove that was mystifying.

One would never have guessed that the forest sat on a golf course.

“You have much beauty in your world as well, Alec,” Caradoc murmured appreciatively. “Almost, it begins to compare to the groves of Altharia. The breathing of the trees here is subdued, and their song is quiet, but in my heart it kindles a memory of Erithien. We have been away only a little time, but already I long to see her beauty and hear her song mingle with the waters of the Crys.”

Caradoc’s eyes grew somber and his face earnest, and he began to sing in a low, rich chant, voice drifting through the woods as they walked.

 

She danced, a dream of joy and grace,

Her feet as light as dryad’s lace,

We watched and wept, her guard we kept,

The mother of our ancient race.

 

Her eyes of silvered fluorspar

Her hair of sunlight from afar

Her skin of night, though shining bright,

Neath twinkling light of gleaming star.

 

Erithien, we know thee well

Thy glades and forests, groves and dells,

Thy tree-framed deeps, where magic sleeps,

And age-old beauty shining dwells.

 

Erithien, Erithien,

Earthen lady, forest maiden

Our hearts shall mourn, ‘til we are borne

To see thy dancing form again.

 

His voice faded into the night, and all three of them walked in silence. Alec’s eyes were shining, brightened by Caradoc’s song. He felt the yearning within himself grow.

“Who are your people, Caradoc?” he asked finally. “I’ve never seen anyone like you. What do you call yourselves?”

“We call ourselves Arthians,” the large creature answered. “We live in the forests that I sang of, the forests of Erithien. My home is Erithien’s capital, the city of Ariendor; many other Arthians abide there as well.  We are all ruled by our king, Asbjorn; he is very old and wise and full of knowledge. Perhaps you will meet him – he is sure to be interested in a human visitor. I am sure that he will welcome you warmly.”

Alec took a moment to digest the information.

“What about Jakar? Is he from… Erithien, too? There aren’t bird Arthians, are there?”

Jakar’s clacking laughter broke harshly into the stillness.

“Bird Arthians,” he chuckled, clearly amused.

“An easy mistake,” Caradoc smiled. “Jakar has been a close friend of mine for many years now. His people are called the Eeries, a fierce race from the South. Most of them are like Jakar – of a rougher kind but dependable.”

If Jakar appreciated the compliment he gave no indication, shambling along steadily.

“Look now,” Caradoc exclaimed, “we draw close to the Door.”

They stood on the upper ridge of a ravine, where the land dropped off and opened into a small clearing at its base. There, in that clearing, stood two regal oak trees, swirling trunks rooted solidly and straightly in the peaty earth.

With Caradoc leading, they made their way down towards them.

Alec shook his head in astonishment. All this was right beside Hole #13 and he never would have known! He bet Timothy Cobbler didn’t have a clue either.

Wouldn’t be the first time, he scowled inwardly.

At length, they came to the oaks. Caradoc walked to the space between them and turned, arms folded and brow stern.

“You have had a little time to think, Alec,” he said, “but there is more you must know before you make your decision.”

He held an arm behind him, as if pointing to something. Whatever it was, Alec could not see it.

“The passage of time works differently in Altharia than here in your world,” Caradoc’s voice rumbled in the stillness. “A day may pass in Altharia and as much as a year will pass here; sometimes a decade in Altharia amounts to only a few hours in this world. Should you come with us, you will not know which it will be.

“What’s more,” he continued, “there is no simple way back. When we pass through to Altharia we cannot simply turn around and return. When it is the Maker’s will, he will open the Door again.

“Do not let that frighten you,” he added quickly, noting Alec’s gasp, “you will not be imprisoned or held, certainly not by my people. If all goes well, you will have opportunity to return to your world. But I cannot say when that will be, or how it will come about.”

Alec’s thoughts raced in the quiet, processing Caradoc’s words. A fist of fear gripped suddenly at his stomach and the forest seemed very, very dark.

“You… you said if all goes well,” he stammered. “What if something happens to me? Something… bad.”

Caradoc and Jakar shared glances before Caradoc shook his head heavily.

“No one knows, Alec,” he said quietly. “There are many theories, for humans have come to Altharia before, but none have ever died with us so no one knows for certain. Aviriel does not even know, and she is the wisest among us.”

Jakar’s voice broke in, his eyes hooded and grave. “Your question is keener than you know, boy. Caradoc speaks often of Altharia’s beauty, but know this: there are many dark and dangerous things in our world. If you come, you aren’t coming to a javindra party – Altharia has its share of perils.”

He seemed to be referring to something in particular, for as he spoke, Caradoc grew stiffer and stiffer, shoulders hunching and lip curling.

“You speak of Khubas, Jakar.” Caradoc’s voice was bleak and grim. “But he has not been seen for over a century now!”

“Um, I have a question,” Alec broke in, looking back and forth at both of them. “There’s not actually a chance that I’ll die, is there? I mean, you’re not bringing a fourteen year-old kid into a warzone… right?”

The two Altharians glanced at each other. Jakar nodded.

“What?!” Alec shouted, not caring if anyone heard.

“Jakar!” growled Caradoc, eyes ablaze. “Listen to me, little one! Danger may come or it may not, but Altharia is presently at peace. You heard me – our enemy has not even been seen in a hundred years. And should any battle arise, we have our own warriors to fight it. The Maker marked you for something other than fighting.”

“That much is certain,” Jakar muttered dryly, casting a sidelong glance Alec’s way.

He quieted under Caradoc’s glare.

The Arthian turned to Alec. “That’s not enough for you, is it?”

When Alec stayed quiet, he nodded to himself and sighed.

Then, straightening, Caradoc drew his sword and raised his voice so that it echoed boldly in the night.

“I pledge to you, Alec Breen, by all that is sacred and fair, by my love for Erithien, and by my honor as an Arthian – that I, Caradoc Cal’Corwyn, will see that no harm comes to you, except that it come over my corpse, hewn down in your defense. When you have need of aid, call my name to the trees of Altharia; be it even so weak as a whisper, I will hear and come. This I pledge before the Maker.”

He lowered his eyes and returned his sword to its sheath.

Jakar, who had watched Caradoc’s oath without expression, leaned towards Alec. The teenager was dumbfounded, uncertain of what had just occurred, and more than a little intimidated by the Arthian’s vow.

“He has given you one of the strongest promises of his people,” the bird muttered. “Count on it; he will keep you safe.”

Caradoc took a deep breath then, as though a formidable weight had settled onto his broad shoulders.

He caught Alec in his golden-eyed gaze.

“You have heard that there is good and evil in Altharia; you have heard that you face risk in coming with us; you have heard my oath to you. In some way, I knew that such a promise would be required, and so I do not hesitate to give it to you. The cost is great, but our need is greater; of this, I am certain.

“I apologize that we have had to move so quickly. I am sure that there is yet much that alarms you. But now, I must ask you plainly: Alec Breen, will you come with us?”

He went silent then, an immense shadow in the dark, standing between the twin oaks, wolfish eyes searching out Alec’s answer earnestly.

This is unbelievable! a voice shouted in Alec’s mind. What do you think you’re doing?

There were so many red flags and warning signs; it would be foolish to ignore them, to take such risks and walk blindly into danger.

To go forward now would be like walking out over a canyon on a tight-rope. In the fog.

No turning back, no sure reward, and everything to lose.

You should just go back home, he thought to himself. Go back to your room and go to sleep before it gets too late.

He’d eventually forget about all this; Caradoc and Jakar would go back to their world, and everything would return to normal.

And yet…

As he looked at Caradoc and considered the Arthian’s oath, he found that his yearning to go to this Altharia had not diminished at all; in fact, it had grown.

He could hardly believe it, but he wanted to go.

Caradoc mystified, terrified, and intrigued him all at once. And, though it seemed strange to admit it, the Arthian’s promise was comforting.

Alec glanced again at him, wondering what kind of creature could pose any threat to Caradoc at all. Nothing he could imagine, that was for certain.

He liked the Arthian, he realized. And Jakar too, in his own way. They treated him differently than he had ever been treated before, especially Caradoc.

He felt needed.

Important.

Who were these Arthians, anyway? What was their world like?

Would he ever get a chance like this again? To do something that mattered, to travel to a new world, to make a difference? The more he thought about it, the more it appealed to him. His adrenaline was pumping, sending a thrill through his mind, a thrill that offered reason after reason for going with them.

As he sorted through the rush of thoughts and feelings, a resolution settled on him.

He knew what he would do.

It wasn’t reasonable. It wasn’t something he could entirely explain. He felt strange, and a little light-headed, as though he were making a decision of greater importance than he could possibly know. But he knew he had to.

When he finally spoke, it sounded like someone else’s voice coming out of his mouth.

“I’ve made my decision,” Alec said, “I’ll come with you.”

Caradoc watched him steadily, paying close attention to every word. Alec took a deep breath.

“Take me to Altharia.”

There was complete stillness for a moment, and then Caradoc gave a pleased smile, nodding.

“We are honored. You have made the right choice, lad,” he assured him.

“Now, I will open the Door.”

Drawing his sword again, Caradoc turned and faced the space between the two oaks. Moonlight glittered along the length of the blade, limning it with white light, dancing along its edge, casting small shadows over the blood trough, gleaming silver in its hilt. Alec watched, entranced, noticing for the first time how beautiful a weapon it was, a work of deadly art.

Gripping its hilt with both hands, Caradoc lifted the sword above his head and began to chant, voice low and commanding. His words bore up under the stillness of the forest, rising and falling in steady, purposeful rhythm.

“Digra shodunha dwallen. Mot-hu danir diskrai. Dryn tashta morren hai gerro,” he began, eyes closed.

Darkness and moonlight swirled around him like a shifting, billowing cloak. The magic of the night turned in on itself, focusing its power on the Arthian, gathering and building around him.

Alec became suddenly aware of a growing pressure that drew tightly around them, like great hands were gripping the forest and holding it close. The air tingled with energy, and a quiet breath of wind stirred in his ears, mingling with Caradoc’s words.

A gleam appeared suddenly in the hilt of Caradoc’s sword, pure and white.

Still he chanted.

The gleam blossomed, the silvered beams of the forest feeding its radiance, until it appeared that the Arthian clasped a star in his hands. Power whirled around him, tossing the tendrils of his mane in its wind, so that they streamed behind him wildly. The light blazed up into the sword’s blade.

“Ein allan do aerin stellare, Althar gorienn. Erith gorienn. Porshanna!” Caradoc finished with a shout, his voice thundering with a strength that rumbled through the forest.

A bar of white-hot fire shot from the end of the sword, straight up through the canopy of trees, stabbing into the murkiness of the night sky like a holy beacon. The ground beneath their feet shook, and as they fought to keep their balance, another light, twin to the one from Caradoc’s sword, appeared in the air between the two oak trees. It shot upwards about twenty feet, before splitting apart and tracing what looked like two giant rectangles, joined at the middle.

A groaning filled the forest like the tearing of cloth and the splitting of rock. The trees shook and shuddered. With a ponderous moan, the two rectangles pulled apart in opposite directions like sliding doors, the space between them opening into inky blackness. At first it roiled and churned, a sea of angry tar, but suddenly it settled, its surface growing smooth and clouded, pierced through here and there with points of sparkling starlight.

The light of Caradoc’s sword died abruptly, its hilt giving a final flare before winking out.

The large Arthian let his hands drop, wearily returning his blade to its sheath, and turned to Alec with a smile.

“Come,” he invited warmly, gesturing to the opening before him. “Altharia awaits.”

Striding forward confidently, he lifted a foot and stepped into the darkness.

Wordless and numb, Alec followed.

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Here ends Chapter Three of Door to Altharia.