1
Seven men and a women. Spartans all. The woman came forth to the wood.
2
She was a lithe creature, striding gracefully through the wood. Her movements were comparable to those of a forest nymph, as was her beauty. Her presence made me feel strange, my heart beat quicker. Observing her beauty caused my body heat, yet it was not an unpleasant heat - though the cold had ever been my preference - actually it was to the contrary, this new heat flowing through me was among the most pleasant sensations I'd yet known.
I felt - though I had sparred with Spartans and notched the sword of even Great Achilles (at least he deserved that name, though not in the size of his self but in the size of his skill) himself - that I would not be able to confront this girl - young as she was, appearing to have seen maybe sixteen summers - with naught even words.
However, slowly and silently my sword slid from it's sheathe as I soundlessly muttered a personal motto, "One must be vigilant, for danger may dwell in deepest darkness or brightest light, and my duty it is to protect this sacred forest, for it hath done me such."
"Beware woman!
If this forest
You would hurt,
From your body
Shalt your blood spurt.
Beware woman!
If this forest
You would bake,
Then your bones,
Shalt I break.
Beware woman!
If this forest
You would kill,
Then your blood
Shalt I chill."
My intonation of the elder rhyme was spoken coldly, and yet was filled with hottest flames;
It was angry - reeking a cold and dark fury - yet also possessed of a complete calm balance;
It boomed from my throat, but rang all about, a whip's crack from all directions;
It was soft, yet still rushed loudly among the trees, a sound and a fury;
Finally it fell out in finality, both triumphant and telling of said sword clash coming,
And yet also it spoke of heat and battle, and battle and heat.
I had great love of this forest as one does for one's parents,
And If need there be my sword would taste the blood of legions,
And if need there be I would bloody women or children,
This and more to but prevent harm to a single small branch of 'er,
And this was felt in every rhythm and every rhyme.
"You are but a man, and, at that, but one." This manifest of beauty spoke quite softly, yet her voice carried far. Her voice and aspect betrayed no fear to even me; this was something to be spoken of, for either it meant she feared me not or betrayed such not, either something impressive even to me.
"Bring you legions and blood shalt rain from the sky!
I shall cut all down, giving not quarter nor hope!
This sword hath broken Spartans in their calculated, synchronized fury!
This sword hath matched Achilles' strike for skilled strike
And yet had speed to notch his shield per strike!"
Bring you hundred,
Bring you thousands,
Bring you millions,
And 'o' shalt they bleed at it's will and want!
Even such might as thy radiant beauty
Shalt stay it not in defense of such as this that hath defended it!"
Though I felt my heart's flutter, my voice heard no waver.
"It is said that those here - who now stay their sound to silence for your proclamation -
Did nurture you, deserted and deathly as you were, for none but animal's heart.
'Tis it truth then?"
She inquired softly in her song, which was worthy of a seraph to be sure.
"'Tis so, 'tis indeed my lady." I spoke this softly in a voice touched with care.
"I have heard your deeds great guardian
And it is as such that I do come to beseech you;
It is as such that I to my knees fall..."
And, as her words came to my ears, to her knees she dropped.
"...to beg for - paying any necessary price needed or wanted for it - your service."
Her song trailed to it's end. I knew her thoughts as quite miserable by a glance.
"As ever, you must beseech the forest, not myself, for my aid;
As it's whims guide my sword.
And yet, though I'd ask your angel's heart my price
I find I'd play for it with naught but fair dice
And, in this, I dare not play a devil, so, for that,
At will and whim of the guardian, which now I do guard,
My sword shall be not even a feather for your hand
As I do hold it for thee and write as must be wrought.
Such can thee account my sworn oath,
And, in that, thy bargain made.
Now I say:
As you keep safe the passage,
So shalt your passage be.
Now to north make your own haste
And know my presence and pace shalt follow you and lead you on
To the great wood's wood heart."
This I stated, my voice, as always, booming from about to mask my place.
"Thank thee I do, and more again shalt I if thy bargain I may balance."
She spoke still more softly with a touch of sadness, and, at that last, a tear feel from her cheek to spread, and be spread, the and upon the dirt, and, at this, the wood heart did stay a moment silent.
She rose slowly and making amazing haste with a woodwalker's step made trail straight on and north. We made, I above and her below, on, to the center of the wood, yonder to the great tree there, which was the greatest of the wood and, in that, it's beating heart.
We came quickly to our destination, and I noted, with a rare suprise, her speed and my heart beat faster still. My sword, which had twirled senselessly in my hand as I ran, came to it's sheathe marking my place and, at this, the angelic figure looked up to my place as I came down to her front.
"Greetings my lady." I said with a bow of my head and a flourish. To this she curtsied with elegance and silence.
Before us up and up rose the mighty tree.
"What a beautiful song." She whispered in awe. I started at this; more suprised than I could remember being, yet I stood silent. She spoke true as the old tree sang with a beauty which I found was somehow paralleled her own. I dare not attempt to describe said song, for my articulations would inevitably fall short. Yet now it began to change from something of harmony to...something else. I now had my answer, I bowed my head to the great tree and turned.
"And so we go." I stated.
A tear rolled down her cheek and fell, yet as it fell my sword came from it's sheathe and the tear fell upon my blade. She started at this and looked up into my eyes in awe at my speed.
"And thus I christen my blade again - though not anew -
In water perhaps as holy as the water of this ancient tree."
My sword, with a flash and in the blink of an eye, went back to the sheathe. Gently I guided her hand to the hilt of my sword.
"This you shalt guide, but yet feel it's weight you sha'n't,
For I hold it for you, your brethren and your honor."
Our gazes came to one for a moment of eternity and bliss.
"On we go, much there is to do." I stated solemnly.
3
The man set an incredible pace.
He wore only tan shorts made from a deer's skin and a Spartan's sheathe and sword. He was powerfully built, however to me this was not so impressive, as all Spartan men were powerfully built. His hair shined a perfectly pure white just as freshly fallen snow, this I found awe-inspiring and strangely beautiful. His eyes were something to behold as well, they were blue like rings of the most pure spring water, they held a great power and something of a strange fire.
He stopped suddenly, turning, his gaze into my eyes - I felt a strong tremor fall through me at our eyes meeting.
"Rest now." He stated this in the form of a command, only it did not ring as a command to me.
Though we had been moving at his great speed for a while he seemed unphased, breathing as if he had but been standing there.
"I was to be known as Xander." He stated in his deep and powerful voice.
"I am called Alyla." I replied.
He gazed into my eyes for a small time. As suddenly as he had stopped he turned and began his brisk and steady progression.
"Come, be brisk and steadfast."
4
It had been quite early when we set out, yet the sun stood but above as we reached our destination.
"Wait here." Xander commanded.
He left noiselessly - as was his habit - and if I had not watched him go I would have thought him to have dissappeared.
I waited, listening to the forest's song.
He returned before long, he now wore a pure white cloak with the hood laid back and carried a bow, a quiver of arrows lay against his back.
"Let us take leave." Xander stated softly, but nevertheless the intonation rang powerfully through the air.
He made his brisk pace, I followed.
5
Silence reigned between us.
I know not how but I knew we approached the encampment. I was pondering this innate knowledge when he spoke.
"You are very beautiful Alyla, your presence causes me a euphoric longing as I'd not experienced." Xander intoned softly. In fact had he not addressed me by name I might have thought he was but muttering to himself. His intonation spoke of something new to him; admiration.
"Thank you." I replied softly.
"You have a mate, yes?" He inquired softly, though it was apparent the answer was known to him.
"Yes." I replied.
"He is not fond of me?" He stated questioningly.
I was startled by this, I knew Pyralis had, as of yet, not met Xander. "You say so, why? He's not crossed your path."
"Indeed, the path that son hath tread doth not cross my own." He paused. "During my thirteenth autumn a small group stopped at the edge of my home. In th' night one among this group, who I thought to be Spartans by their markings, found the bottom of his brew, and, in the stupor found at the bottom, he took a blazing branch up and made to make ash of this - my ancient hom; and, in th' means of staying the hand of such catastrophe incarnate, I found necessity to bleed him back to th' earth." He spoke solemnly to the last, his voice unwavering though touched by regret - though this regret was of the need for the deed.
"Pyralis' father." I intoned softly, even fearfully for this boded unwell indeed. However, all may yet be salvaged for Pyralis had yet not mentioned the man of the wood as his father's demise. It would all depend on what Pyralis knew and how he used such knowledge as he had. I had another question however. "Why kill him?" I asked.
"Because, only such as that can halt a Spartan." Xander stated powerfully. "With it, or on it. Come, we approach wood's end. Be silent."