The Emerald Legend (Book 1)

Chapter Thirteen: Unusual Company

After returning home and relieving his worried mother, Calhūn knew that he would not be home for long. In the dead of the night, when all became still, sneaking about became his most talented skill. He easily slipped past his slumbering mother and past the blown out candles that once flickered fiery light. He approached his loyal Syndra, who had only just begun to fall into a deep slumber. "Forgive me for waking you yet again, dearest companion, but I do not wish to accompany my friend's father when the dawn of the day should break."

Calhūn raised his horse from her sleep and brushed her down with his hands. Although the call of slumber rung loudly in her ears, faithfulness rung louder.

"That's my girl," he said as she shook the tiredness from her body and woke to the command of her master. He quickly, yet quietly, prepared her saddle with a light and careful touch.

He held his father's sword, which was sheathed steadily upon his belt, and slipped his foot through the stirrup while lifting himself onto Syndra's back. He patted her along the neck once more and guided her towards the barn door.

The night was quiet and still. The storm that once raged had fallen into a steady calmness. Calhūn looked past the tree line towards the path to the Uluven farm. He sighed deeply and trotted slowly towards the density of the forest.

A crunching sound came out from the distance and Calhūn quickly turned to glance in the direction of the noise. He listened for a moment and the normal sounds of the forest returned. Although, he now moved with a lighter step and a quickened pace..

The air was thick and moisture hung densely among it. Syndra's hooves splashed amongst the wet, grassy earth below, riddling her white coat with a dark muddy brown. They made it past the trees and the shrubs covering the dense forest, and began heading for the waterfall pool that Amalia had spent so many days at.

The forest was misty and starless; the smoke of night held thick within its floors. Calhūn wondered what had become of his dear friend, but thoughts of marriage kept creeping into his mind.

Would she be truly happy marrying someone like myself? He wondered. Maybe, she would be happier marrying someone like The Prince.

He came to the forest and moved towards the moonless stream that cut through the terrain. The rocks looked sharp and uninviting as he passed. There was no sign of the working beavers or the song-filled birds that had called to them such a short time ago. All that was left was silence, hanging like a lantern in the night.

Calhūn watched the sleeping riverbed as he passed, looking for any traces of disturbance. He knew if Amalia wanted anyone finding her, it would be him.

Suddenly, with a shocking jolt, Calhūn was slammed hard against his chest and tossed back down onto the wet bedrock below him. The wind flew from his lungs and his head splashed into the water below.

His composure was shot for a moment as he was unable to clear his vision or his thoughts. When his eyes adjusted and he finally backed away from the stinging pain in his chest, the vision of a thick-bladed sword hung eerily close to his nape.

"Greetings." A familiar voice called out to the disoriented farm boy. When he raised his sight to the face of his perpetrator, it left him perhaps more dazed than the initial attack.

"Your Highness?" he asked with confusion. As Calhūn tried to raise himself off of the rocky shore, he was met by the tip of the prince's sword.

"I suggest you answer my questions, peasant. Or should you face the edges of my sword." Prince Korvon spoke with fire in his words, giving a sense of pride-filled power.