FICTION
SCOTT CHADDON
Lauralee Sikorski, artist
BITTERSWEET DESTINY
Taryn had been startled when the human device began making noises. She and the others had all jumped, and then laughed, at their foolishness. Alcon had not been impressed. The collective opinion of most of the youth was that the Huntsmaster was far too serious minded. Taryn and the others respected him but had no intention of becoming like him. After being chastised, and given their instructions, they separated and began the hunt.
Taryn preferred to hunt near water. Water drew game, and that made for bountiful prey. Instead of heading up into the mountains, like Kaide, she headed into the Deep Forest to a nearby river valley. Not far from the river, she had a secret hunting ground; a series of small, deep valleys where wildlife liked to stop and drink at a handful of spring-fed pools.
She slipped silently through the woods, disturbing neither plant nor animal. Every so often she would pat a little water skin tied to her belt. The tiny skin contained a small supply of holy water, just one or two swallows. Enough magic to handle most emergencies. She gathered the holy water one drop at a time, gifted by a water spirit she had befriended as a child when she lost her way in the Deep Forest. The water spirit had given her a single drop and showed her how to use it to find her way home. Taryn had memorized the way and visited as often as possible. Following each visit, she would give Taryn a single drop of the water.
Upon reaching the river, she made certain that no one was watching before diving into the slow-moving current. Taryn allowed the water to carry her for a while before she angled herself into a large eddy pool that ran up against a high cliff face. She drifted up to the rough stone surface, took a deep breath, and then sank straight down. When she located the opening she wanted, Taryn pulled herself in and through, using her arms. When she emerged on the other side, she suppressed the desire to burst through the surface and gasp for air. She knew that sudden movement and noise could scare off potential prey. She surfaced slowly, giving herself several minutes to quietly catch her breath while she observed her surroundings. Not seeing any large prey nearby, she made her way out of the water and down a narrow game trail toward the nearest spring pool and its tiny valley.
Upon approaching the first pool, she spotted two large geese waddling out of the water. She fit an arrow to her bow string and, seconds later, both birds were down. She cleaned the carcasses, and deposited them into a sack, which she hung high in a tree before continuing on. The next two springs in the chain yielded no game, which was fine with Taryn. Even if she returned with nothing else, the geese would be acceptable, though she preferred to bring home a larger catch.
Taryn’s pulse quickened as she rounded the last bend in the path, anticipating what she hoped to find at the next spring. Pausing briefly, she peered through the leaves and saw a young, male elf from the Altiena tribe crouching at the water’s edge. Taryn smiled mischievously. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she slipped from the trees and snuck up behind him. When she was an arm’s length away, Taryn tapped him on the shoulder. Startled, he stood up and turned in a single, smooth reflex. Smiling broadly, she reached out at just the right moment and pushed lightly on his chest, tipping him over backward into the water with a yell and a loud splash. Taryn, unable to contain her mirth, began laughing loudly. The young elf floundered and spluttered for a few moments while he recovered his footing.
“You look like a half-drowned raccoon,” said Taryn between fits of giggles. The humor of the situation was not lost on him as he sloshed to shore, grinning.
“I’ll get you back, Taryn.” He wagged a soggy finger at her.
“You always say that, Valmar.”
“Is that so?” He grabbed for her.
She easily evaded him and his water-laden pursuit, giggling each time he missed her. By the time he was finally able to catch her, they were both wet. She returned his embrace, gazed into his chestnut brown eyes moments before their lips met in a passionate kiss. They spent the remainder of the morning walking, talking, and holding hands.
“You know our elders would be angry if we were ever discovered,” said Valmar.
“I know,” said Taryn, “although, this may be the beginnings of peace between our two tribes.”
“It’s possible,” said Valmar pensively. “You do know that we’ll have to leave our tribes if we want to be together.”
“I know,” she said following a long pause, “but, as long as I have you, I could do it.”
“Me too.” He smiled.
“How long have we been together?” she asked.
“Today makes it two years.”
“I want to share something special with you.”
“What is it?”
“A carefully guarded secret,” said Taryn with a smile. “Follow me and don’t make a sound.” She took his hand and led him to an opening in a rocky rise at the far end of the valley.
“Where…?” He was confused as she pushed aside some brush.
“Shhh!” she hissed as she clamped a hand over his mouth. “Remember, quiet!” she whispered.
Valmar nodded as she led him through a barely perceptible gap in the rock and into the last, and most secret, of the valleys. When they slipped past the bushes on the far side, Valmar gasped at the unfettered, nearly magical, beauty of the place. Taryn gasped because of what she saw at the edge of the water. She tapped Valmar and pointed.
Standing at the edge of the water was a goblin dressed in filthy black robes. He appeared to be gripping an elven woman, who seemed to be composed entirely of water, by her throat. Goblins, especially sorcerers, had not been seen in this part of the world in centuries, and the water spirit he was threatening was a much rarer being by far.
“Zepharia,” whispered Taryn, “we must help her.”
“You know the water spirit?” Valmar was impressed.
“I was going to introduce you.”
Without another word, they put arrows to strings and moved into a better firing position. Taryn’s arrow would have pierced the goblin’s heart but, an inch from the target, some kind of magic shield flared to life, stopping it. Valmar’s arrow, following Taryn’s, sank deeply into the goblin’s left hip. The sorcerer screamed in pain, releasing Zepharia as he turned to face them. He pointed at the lovers and spat out a vile string of words, while they hurried to prepare a second volley. A bolt of bile-green energy erupted from the goblin’s hand and flew straight at Taryn. Valmar, seeing what was about to happen, leapt in front of her, taking the blast full in the chest. Without hesitation, Taryn’s second arrow flew true, burying itself in the goblin’s chest, killing him instantly. Dropping her bow, Taryn knelt and tended to Valmar who was struggling to breathe. She lifted the small skin from her waist and brought it to his lips.
“No!” called Zepharia from the land’s edge. “Don’t waste it; bring him here. Quickly now.”
Taryn did as instructed and carried Valmar to the water.
“He’s been wounded by foul magic, and you don’t possess enough of the water to counter it.”
“How can I save him then?” Taryn asked, tears streaming down her face.
“Bind his spirit to the water. His body cannot be saved, but he need not die.”
“Please, my love,” gasped Valmar, “I don’t want to leave you.”
Taryn nodded. “What do I do?”
“Give him a small sip from your flask,” instructed Zepharia, “pour the rest over his face and head, and then slip his body into the pool before he dies. As you do this, pour all of your will and concentration into binding his spirit to the water.”
Valmar began to gasp harder. Taryn quickly followed the instructions and the instant his body disappeared from view, a figure emerged from the surface of the pool. Aside from being composed of water, it looked exactly like Valmar.
“I survive, my love,” said Valmar, “but I cannot leave the water.”
“Then, I will remain here with you,” said Taryn. “I’ll collect the holy water until my time comes, and then I will join you.”
“You must first warn our peoples of the goblin threat,” said Valmar.
She nodded.
Taryn returned home and told the elders of the goblin she had slain. She saw her family one last time and that night she slipped away to return to Valmar as she had promised. Taryn stayed true to her word and was never seen by her people again.
Taryn preferred to hunt near water. Water drew game, and that made for bountiful prey. Instead of heading up into the mountains, like Kaide, she headed into the Deep Forest to a nearby river valley. Not far from the river, she had a secret hunting ground; a series of small, deep valleys where wildlife liked to stop and drink at a handful of spring-fed pools.
She slipped silently through the woods, disturbing neither plant nor animal. Every so often she would pat a little water skin tied to her belt. The tiny skin contained a small supply of holy water, just one or two swallows. Enough magic to handle most emergencies. She gathered the holy water one drop at a time, gifted by a water spirit she had befriended as a child when she lost her way in the Deep Forest. The water spirit had given her a single drop and showed her how to use it to find her way home. Taryn had memorized the way and visited as often as possible. Following each visit, she would give Taryn a single drop of the water.
Upon reaching the river, she made certain that no one was watching before diving into the slow-moving current. Taryn allowed the water to carry her for a while before she angled herself into a large eddy pool that ran up against a high cliff face. She drifted up to the rough stone surface, took a deep breath, and then sank straight down. When she located the opening she wanted, Taryn pulled herself in and through, using her arms. When she emerged on the other side, she suppressed the desire to burst through the surface and gasp for air. She knew that sudden movement and noise could scare off potential prey. She surfaced slowly, giving herself several minutes to quietly catch her breath while she observed her surroundings. Not seeing any large prey nearby, she made her way out of the water and down a narrow game trail toward the nearest spring pool and its tiny valley.
Upon approaching the first pool, she spotted two large geese waddling out of the water. She fit an arrow to her bow string and, seconds later, both birds were down. She cleaned the carcasses, and deposited them into a sack, which she hung high in a tree before continuing on. The next two springs in the chain yielded no game, which was fine with Taryn. Even if she returned with nothing else, the geese would be acceptable, though she preferred to bring home a larger catch.
Taryn’s pulse quickened as she rounded the last bend in the path, anticipating what she hoped to find at the next spring. Pausing briefly, she peered through the leaves and saw a young, male elf from the Altiena tribe crouching at the water’s edge. Taryn smiled mischievously. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she slipped from the trees and snuck up behind him. When she was an arm’s length away, Taryn tapped him on the shoulder. Startled, he stood up and turned in a single, smooth reflex. Smiling broadly, she reached out at just the right moment and pushed lightly on his chest, tipping him over backward into the water with a yell and a loud splash. Taryn, unable to contain her mirth, began laughing loudly. The young elf floundered and spluttered for a few moments while he recovered his footing.
“You look like a half-drowned raccoon,” said Taryn between fits of giggles. The humor of the situation was not lost on him as he sloshed to shore, grinning.
“I’ll get you back, Taryn.” He wagged a soggy finger at her.
“You always say that, Valmar.”
“Is that so?” He grabbed for her.
She easily evaded him and his water-laden pursuit, giggling each time he missed her. By the time he was finally able to catch her, they were both wet. She returned his embrace, gazed into his chestnut brown eyes moments before their lips met in a passionate kiss. They spent the remainder of the morning walking, talking, and holding hands.
“You know our elders would be angry if we were ever discovered,” said Valmar.
“I know,” said Taryn, “although, this may be the beginnings of peace between our two tribes.”
“It’s possible,” said Valmar pensively. “You do know that we’ll have to leave our tribes if we want to be together.”
“I know,” she said following a long pause, “but, as long as I have you, I could do it.”
“Me too.” He smiled.
“How long have we been together?” she asked.
“Today makes it two years.”
“I want to share something special with you.”
“What is it?”
“A carefully guarded secret,” said Taryn with a smile. “Follow me and don’t make a sound.” She took his hand and led him to an opening in a rocky rise at the far end of the valley.
“Where…?” He was confused as she pushed aside some brush.
“Shhh!” she hissed as she clamped a hand over his mouth. “Remember, quiet!” she whispered.
Valmar nodded as she led him through a barely perceptible gap in the rock and into the last, and most secret, of the valleys. When they slipped past the bushes on the far side, Valmar gasped at the unfettered, nearly magical, beauty of the place. Taryn gasped because of what she saw at the edge of the water. She tapped Valmar and pointed.
Standing at the edge of the water was a goblin dressed in filthy black robes. He appeared to be gripping an elven woman, who seemed to be composed entirely of water, by her throat. Goblins, especially sorcerers, had not been seen in this part of the world in centuries, and the water spirit he was threatening was a much rarer being by far.
“Zepharia,” whispered Taryn, “we must help her.”
“You know the water spirit?” Valmar was impressed.
“I was going to introduce you.”
Without another word, they put arrows to strings and moved into a better firing position. Taryn’s arrow would have pierced the goblin’s heart but, an inch from the target, some kind of magic shield flared to life, stopping it. Valmar’s arrow, following Taryn’s, sank deeply into the goblin’s left hip. The sorcerer screamed in pain, releasing Zepharia as he turned to face them. He pointed at the lovers and spat out a vile string of words, while they hurried to prepare a second volley. A bolt of bile-green energy erupted from the goblin’s hand and flew straight at Taryn. Valmar, seeing what was about to happen, leapt in front of her, taking the blast full in the chest. Without hesitation, Taryn’s second arrow flew true, burying itself in the goblin’s chest, killing him instantly. Dropping her bow, Taryn knelt and tended to Valmar who was struggling to breathe. She lifted the small skin from her waist and brought it to his lips.
“No!” called Zepharia from the land’s edge. “Don’t waste it; bring him here. Quickly now.”
Taryn did as instructed and carried Valmar to the water.
“He’s been wounded by foul magic, and you don’t possess enough of the water to counter it.”
“How can I save him then?” Taryn asked, tears streaming down her face.
“Bind his spirit to the water. His body cannot be saved, but he need not die.”
“Please, my love,” gasped Valmar, “I don’t want to leave you.”
Taryn nodded. “What do I do?”
“Give him a small sip from your flask,” instructed Zepharia, “pour the rest over his face and head, and then slip his body into the pool before he dies. As you do this, pour all of your will and concentration into binding his spirit to the water.”
Valmar began to gasp harder. Taryn quickly followed the instructions and the instant his body disappeared from view, a figure emerged from the surface of the pool. Aside from being composed of water, it looked exactly like Valmar.
“I survive, my love,” said Valmar, “but I cannot leave the water.”
“Then, I will remain here with you,” said Taryn. “I’ll collect the holy water until my time comes, and then I will join you.”
“You must first warn our peoples of the goblin threat,” said Valmar.
She nodded.
Taryn returned home and told the elders of the goblin she had slain. She saw her family one last time and that night she slipped away to return to Valmar as she had promised. Taryn stayed true to her word and was never seen by her people again.
Author Scott Chaddon is a 54 year old, disabled, writer, artist, photographer, and avid reader of all things fiction and fantasy. Born and raised in Fairbanks, Alaska, he would often retreat into worlds found between the covers of a good book. In writing, he seek to give that retreat to others. His stories have appeared in anthologies and magazines like: Building Red: Mission Mars, Explorer One, and Sci Phi Journal.
Artist Lauralee Sikorski is a Connecticut born award winning artist currently living in the Midwest. After Art showings in Chicago, Northwest Indiana, and Michigan she traveled to London where she was Juried into a Raw Arts Exhibition at the Candid Arts Center. Here her artwork was purchased into a private collection.