By the time the sun set that night, Donovan was settled in his hiding spot in a dense thicket not far from the camp. He could see glimpses through the bushes of the fire he had built for Brandela, but he was too far away to see or hear her at the campsite.
The river mud irritated his skin and made it hard for him to remain still, although he knew that even the tiniest motion could alert any wild creature that happened to be close by. Alayna had taught him mind control strategies that he put to use now to help him ignore his discomfort and focus on the task at hand. He concentrated on the sounds around him, alert to the rushing of the river and the rustles and whispers of the grass and woods.
He sat that way—itchy and cramped but focused and alert—for several hours before he heard the faint rustling of grass to his right. It was different than any sound he’d heard up until then and instinct told him that it was time to move. He slowly and silently slipped from his hiding place and moved toward the sound, keenly alert and ready for whatever he might see. Still, nothing prepared him for the sight of the huge, black creature that came out of the shadows before him.
The wolf stood at least five feet at the shoulder and was certainly the biggest wolf Donovan had ever seen in his entire life. Its eyes reflected the moonlight and shone red. Donovan had faced fierce creatures in the past, had fought vicious foes in battles and had no fear of death, but in that moment, a shiver shot down his spine. He had never faced anything quite like this.
To Donovan’s relief, the kazzic wolf had not yet noticed him, giving him a moment to steady his nerves and prepare his next move. Donovan notched an arrow into his bow and took aim. His bow made the slightest creaking sound as he pulled it back, but it was enough to alert the animal and it turned to face Donovan, fangs bared.
Donovan quickly released the first arrow and notched another. As the wolf charged toward him, Donovan released a rapid succession of arrows, each one hitting its mark accurately. The wolf staggered forward until it could go no further and crashed at Donovan’s feet. Donovan felt a deep respect for the brave creature and was saddened as he watched the dying wolf gasping for its last breaths. In one swift motion, he pulled his blade and sliced the beast’s throat, instantly ending his suffering.
Donovan heard growling behind him. He spun around with his weapon raised and was confronted by five kazzic wolves, almost as large as the one he had just killed. They began to circle him, spreading out to surround him. Donovan knew he would not be able to defend himself if he allowed so many wolves the chance to surround him, so as soon as the animal to his right began to leave his line of vision, he ran toward it, swung his blade down as fast as he could, and cut into the wolf’s shoulder. The animal yelped in pain and dragged himself away.
Donovan sidestepped to avoid a wolf who charged him from behind, slashing his blade in an arcing motion and catching the wolf as it passed. He turned and thrust his blade forward at the next animal, but it backed up, just out of reach.
There were three wolves left now, circling, crouching, and growling. Donovan knew that the next attack would come from his unguarded back and he waited patiently for the wolves to make their move. He didn’t have to wait long. Donovan sidestepped and slashed into the chest of the charging wolf, sending him sprawling and yelping in agony.
Immediately, the final two jumped at Donovan. He was able to get his blade up just in time to thrust it into the throat of one of the oncoming creatures, but the other wolf managed to snap down onto Donovan’s arm. With a roar, Donovan pulled his blade from the dead wolf’s corpse, struggling against the crippling pain as the final wolf tried to drag him to the ground. If he fell, he would never rise, he knew, and Brandela would be alone and vulnerable, and would never forgive him.
With a mighty effort, he raised the arm that the wolf was gripping, exposing the creature’s tender neck. Donovan showed no mercy and thrust his blade deep into the wolf’s throat. The wolf jerked back in pain, releasing Donovan’s damaged arm. Donovan sank to his knees and watched as the wolf staggered across the clearing, trying to get back to its den, Donovan’s blade still sticking out of its neck. It didn’t get far and soon collapsed.
Donovan remained on his knees for some time, catching his breath and trying to block out the pain as it rushed through him in agonizing waves. Finally, he stood and made his way to the fallen wolf to retrieve his blade. He used it as a makeshift cane to support himself as he walked back to camp and to Brandela, who had heard the commotion and was waiting for him anxiously.
Brandela watched, horrified, as Donovan made his way back to her. His shirt was soaked with blood and his left arm looked mangled beyond repair. She rushed toward him and helped support him. Blood poured from his arm. Beneath the mud, she could see that he was very pale and drops of sweat beaded his face. He barely made it to camp before he dropped to the ground, unconscious.
Brandela rolled him onto his back to check if he was still breathing. His breaths were coming fast and shallow. She ran for their jug of water and began to wipe the mud from his skin, checking him all over for injuries. When she saw that all the damage was in his arm, she sighed with relief. This, she could deal with!
She tore long strips of cloth from her dress, using the Elven-made short blade Donovan had given her. She positioned a strip on his upper arm, above the wound, and tied it as tightly as she could to cut off the circulation to his arm. The flow of blood slowed almost immediately. She cleaned the jagged wounds with clear water until she was satisfied, beginning to pray softly as she worked.
The chanted prayers, beseeching the Elven Elders for their aid and powers, grew louder and clearer as she set the water aside and closed her eyes, her hands hovering above Donovan’s wounds. She drew upon the Healing spell, allowing her own life energy to flow into Donovan’s damaged body, and she could soon sense him becoming more at ease. His breaths deepened and she “felt,” inside her own chest, his heart slow into a more normal rhythm.
Donovan began to stir and slowly became aware of a warm, tingling sensation and a soothing heat in his arm. He opened his eyes and saw Brandela crouched beside him. Her lips moved silently and a white light glowed from her hands. The heat he was feeling was coming from that light, he realized.
He grew agitated, willing her to stop, but he was too weak yet to move more than his fingers. Alayna had used the Elven Healing spell on them often for their various wounds and had taught him enough for him to understand the danger Brandela was now putting herself in. She did not possess a rune crystal pendant, and without that she would need to use her own life energy to make the magic work. She was draining her own life away to save his. He called out, weakly, for her to stop but she continued chanting as if she could not hear him.
He felt his broken bones began to knit into place and his muscles began to repair themselves. Slowly, his strength returned until he was able to lift himself into a sitting position. He grabbed Bran-dela by her shoulders then and shook her, hard.
“Stop, Brandela. It’s enough. I’m okay.”
Brandela stop chanting and slowly opened her eyes. She was sweating profusely and looked dazed. When she was able to focus enough to make eye contact with Donovan, she simply smiled and said, “Good, it worked.”
It was the first time Donovan had felt angry with her and his voice quivered with emotion as he scolded her. “What were you trying to do, kill yourself? That was very dangerous, Brandela, what you just did!”
“It would only have been dangerous if I had continued,” Bran-dela answered calmly. “As I am no longer in the act of using magic, I am no longer in danger. And neither are you.”
Donovan frowned back and snapped, “Don’t ever do anything like that again. It was an unnecessary risk.”
Brandela stared at him, growing quickly annoyed by his tone. “You’re one to talk about taking risks,” she argued. “You were bleeding all over the place. What did you expect me to do, sit back and watch you die? I will obey you in many things, Donovan, but never that. I won’t let you die if there is something I can do about it. It’s no less than what you have done for me on many occasions.”
The color had drained from Brandela’s face with the energy it took to argue, and Donovan got up and fetched the water jug. He ordered her to drink and held the jug to her lips, refusing to take no for an answer. Brandela quenched her thirst and became very sleepy.
Donovan retrieved the blanket and gathered Brandela into his arms, with the blanket wrapped around both of them. Within minutes, they were both sleeping more deeply than they had at any time during their journey.
They stayed on at that site for several days, resting and regaining their strength, but soon they were making their way northward again, heading for the Wood Elven forest.
For the next two months, their lives became a steady pattern— rising and breaking camp in the early dawn light, traveling for most of the day except for small rest breaks, stopping to hunt or fish in the late afternoon, then continuing on until they found a suitable place to set up camp for the night. It was grueling, exhausting, and monotonous, but both Donovan and Brandela had grown to love it. They had long conversations as they walked—sometimes serious and sometimes silly—and often, their passion for each other flared. They were happy having each other for company, and neither of them liked to think too much about what would happen when they made it back to Alderwood.
Then one day, Donovan spotted something on the river that changed everything. In the distance, upsteam, was a raft carrying four men, men dressed in the uniforms of Garock’s army.
Donovan pulled Brandela into the foliage and they waited there, silently, until the raft had floated past. So he had been right then. Garock was still looking for them.
“Garock’s men?” asked Brandela.
Donovan sighed and looked at her. She was so beautiful, even after all these months of traveling through the wilderness. He would never let Garock get his hands on her.
“Garock’s probably set up an ambush for us farther upstream,” said Donovan. “He knows that there’s only one main route heading north, and he knows that north is the only way for us to get to the Wood Elven forest. He’ll have scouts out all over. We won’t be able to hide our presence from him for long. We need to use an alternative route.”
“But you just said there’s only one route,” questioned Brandela.
“I said Garock knows of only one route. Akenji and I were assigned a mission up here years ago; there is another way that only he and I know about. There’s a canyon just beyond those foothills, there,” he said, pointing to where he meant. “Akenji and I discovered an opening in the canyon that leads to a shallow river crossing. It’ll mean traveling fast for a few days—we must reach the opening before they discover us, but I think we can do it. Once we cross back over, we’ve made it. The Wood Elven forest is less than half a league from the crossing.”
“But how will we avoid Garock and his men until we get there?” asked Brandela. “We don’t know where he has set up his ambush. What if we walk right into it?”
“We need to head inland for a while—northeast,” explained Donovan. “The foliage is thicker inland. It’ll slow us down and make it easier for Garock’s men to track us, but if we can go quickly enough, we can get past them before they realize that we’re there. We’ll have to be as careful as we can, and as fast as we can.”
Brandela listened intently and nodded her head in agreement. She knew that the best thing for her to do right now was to cooperate because there was no other course of action. It was all or nothing; they had only one chance ahead of them now.
For the next few days, they travelled only at night, taking turns at keeping watch for soldiers during the day. On the fourth evening, they found signs of an enemy camp. Donovan swore when he spotted it. The enemy was close and it would only be a matter of time before they were discovered. Donovan gripped Brandela’s hand tightly and began to lead her past the camp.
Suddenly, two soldiers came rushing out of the shadows. Donovan shoved Brandela aside and brandished his broadsword. He parried one of the enemy’s incoming blows and quickly sidestepped to the right, moving the engaged soldier between himself and the second soldier.
Donovan began to hammer blows into the first attacker’s wooden shield, rendering it into splinters and soon leaving the soldier unguarded. Donovan slammed one mighty blow directly into the man’s head, killing him instantly. Then he spun to face the second soldier.
Donovan and the soldier squared off for a long moment before the soldier turned and began to run away, shouting for his comrades. Donovan threw his broadsword towards the fleeing soldier, hitting him directly between the shoulder blades. The man dropped to the ground, dragged himself forwards a short way, and then collapsed.
When Donovan was sure that the man was dead, he removed his sword and looked for Brandela. He found her hiding in the brush with his Elven short sword in her hand, looking as if she were ready to use it if the need arose. She was trembling and he smiled at her reassuringly.
“Two less men to worry about,” he joked, leading her out of her hiding spot. She continued to grip her blade tensely, looking around as though expecting more soldiers to appear.
“Put your blade away, Princess. You won’t need it.” Brandela did as he told her and followed him as he led her deeper into the bush, heading north. Donovan knew it was only a matter of time now before the enemy found the two dead bodies. Speed was essential now if they had any hope of making it to the canyon. From here on, they would travel day and night, stopping only when absolutely necessary.
They made it to the canyon late the next day. Donovan knew exactly where the entrance to the passage was and he hoped they could still make it into the passage before they were spotted. He knew Garock must be close though, and urged Brandela to run faster as they crossed the final clearing toward the canyon’s passage. They were almost halfway there when Donovan heard a horn blowing in the distance and knew their time had run out. They had been spotted and the canyon would soon be flooded with every soldier Garock had in the area.
They had made it into the passage of the canyon and were heading toward the river when Donovan pulled them to a stop. It took a few moments until they stopped gasping for breath and Donovan was able to speak.
“Brandela, we will not make it through to the other side before they run us down. I’m going to stay back and hold them off. I want you to continue making your way out of the passage and toward the river. You won’t have any problem crossing it on your own—it’s very shallow here. Once you’ve made it across, head northwest, into the forest. Don’t stop until you are safely within the forest. I’ll catch up with you once I’m done here.”
“No,” Brandela protested angrily. “I will not be separated from you again. Every time, I’m so afraid that you won’t come back to me. I will not leave you! We either make it out together, or not at all.”
Donovan sighed. They did not have time to argue. “I’ve always made it back to you, haven’t I? I have no intentions of dying here today. I have faced worse and survived. You must see, this is the only way.”
Brandela continued to shake her head, tears welling up in her beautiful eyes.
“I’m sorry, my Princess. They’ll be getting close. You must go.”
Brandela opened her mouth to reply but Donovan cut her off. “Brandela, please do not let my sacrifice for you be in vain. I love you. I would see you safe. No more arguing; there’s no time. I promise not to risk my life needlessly. If I can get out without engaging, I will.”
“I’ll be waiting for you, my Lord,” Brandela whispered, weeping openly.
Donovan wiped her tears with the pads of his thumbs and kissed her with all the passion and longing he possessed. Brandela did not want the kiss to end and when Donovan began to pull away, Bran-dela held him tighter. “I love you,” she cried. “I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. Please come back to me.”
She released him and without another word, turned and starting running toward the river. Donovan watched her go for a moment, then positioned his Elven bow, notched an arrow and waited. It wasn’t long before the enemy soldiers started making their way into the passage and Donovan released his first arrow.